


Something about us

by Snow_Falls



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Homoerotic Swordplay, I studied the blade, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Negotiations, Mutual Pining, Oh No I've Caught Feelings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension, Shitty Dad Margrave, While you were womanizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22102705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Falls/pseuds/Snow_Falls
Summary: “Farewell, the next time we meet may well be when I organize one of these for myself.”Sylvain froze in the act of setting his champagne flute on the table. It really did feel as if he had gone cold, ice pricked down his spine, and then he suddenly felt hot.“What?”Felix’s expression hadn’t changed. He looked coolly aloof, if slightly irritated, but that was just his face these days. Felix made a small impatient sound, presumably at having to repeat himself, “I’ve been told I need to consider marriage. Sooner rather than later.”--Tldr; after learning Felix is being pressured to marry, Sylvain makes some ill-advised advances on his friend, and realizes his feelings for Felix aren't exactly as platonic as he once thought.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 155
Kudos: 633





	1. Unexpected News

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [［譯］我們之間的一些事 | Something about us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24352435) by [betty302](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betty302/pseuds/betty302)



> I finally got and played fe3h, and now I HAVE to write about these morons. I can't believe Nintendo just dropped this bomb on us and casually walked away. BRUH. 
> 
> I also, obviously, listened to [Something about us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=em0MknB6wFo) a million times while writing this. Damn, it fits so well. 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 1!

It might not be the right time  
I might not be the right one  
But there's something about us I want to say  
Cause there's something between us anyway

- _Something about us_ , Daft Punk

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that if you keep making that face it’ll stay that way?”

His friend turned his glare from the room at large to Sylvain instead. Sylvain had missed that glare, it was silly to think he had grown fond of Felix glaring at him, but he had. A fact he had discovered after the war ended and he had been away from Felix for months. Of course, he missed his friend’s softer moments the most, “ _I almost want to hug you.”_ That particular memory still made him feel pleasantly warm, though Sylvain tried not to take it out too often, in case he wore it out with constant handling. He preferred to keep it safely tucked away in his mind, brought out only when he really needed something to make him smile.

“You have, many times.” Felix said flatly.

Sylvain smiled, “And is that why you ignore my good natured warning? Should I have Byleth come and tell you that instead? You don’t seem to have trouble listening to her advice.”

Faint colour came over Felix’s face, and he looked away. “She happens to have admirable tactical skills, I would be a fool not to follow her instruction in battle. If I died there would be no one to save you from your stupidity.”

“Hey, how did this become about me?”

“When we speak, isn’t it always?”

Sylvain laughed, and Felix took a sip of his champagne. They stood together by the refreshments table in the great hall of the royal palace, and they were hardly the only ones occupying it. A great deal of guests had been invited to the wedding of the Archbishop and the King of Fódlan. The reception was in full swing, and though both Sylvain and Felix had been in the capital for a few days now, neither of them had had a chance to see much of the now newlyweds. There had been so many preparations to be made, and rather than being given the chance to help, Sylvain had been scolded on more than one occasion for getting in the way.

The ceremony had been beautiful, but not as traditional as Sylvain had expected. Since the King was marrying the Archbishop, neither could swear to “obey” the other, and their vows spoke more of love than was usual. Sylvain had not expected at all the emotion that had suddenly formed a lump in his throat when Dimitri’s voice caught slightly during his own vows. Not that he would ever admit this to anyone.

“How much longer do you think we need to stay?” Felix asked, moving to stand by the wall, leaning back, a picture of haughty nonchalance. It had been some time since either of them had been back here, and certainly much longer since there had been any cause to use this hall for any kind of celebration. Sylvain couldn’t remember the last time he had seen so many people happy, dressed in fancy silks and velvets. He had spent so many years seeing only the drab colour of cold armour. It was almost a shock now to remember that was not the norm, brilliant colours seemed to dazzle his eyes now.

Sylvain went to stand beside Felix; he had picked up a glass of champagne as well. “And what would you do if you left now? Train?” Sylvain turned to look at Felix when he didn’t reply after a moment, “Wait, is that actually what you’re thinking of doing? Felix, that was a joke!”

“Be quiet,” Felix continued to look out on the hall. “Simply because we’ve won the war doesn’t mean we won’t be called to fight again. You may let your skills atrophy, but I won’t be doing the same.”

Sylvain sighed lightly, “Oh,” he said, raising red eyebrows, “ _May_ I let my skills diminish?”

Now, finally, Felix turned to look at him, his dark eyes serious as ever. “No.”

Sylvain had the sudden, and rather dangerous impulse to reach out and smooth the lines between Felix's brows. “Well, I think you may have to choose then. My friendship, or training?”

Sylvain’s teasing was cut short in that moment, Felix opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly stopped. Sylvain turned to look and found Dimitri and Byleth a few short paces from them.

“Well,” said Sylvain when they were close enough that his voice wouldn’t be drowned out by music, “If it isn’t the couple of the hour! Finally come to grace your lowly subjects with your presence? Not that I blame you, Dimitri, why would you want to share such a beauty with others?” He winked at Byleth who simply smiled patiently at him.

Dimitri shook his head, but when Sylvain offered him a hug, Dimitri accepted without hesitation. Dimitri clasped hands with Felix while Sylvain hugged Byleth in congratulations as well.

“Take care of him,” Sylvain said quietly when they embraced. “Please.”

Pulling gently back, Byleth smiled at him again, this time much more softly. “Of course I will.” She glanced at her husband, and Sylvain almost felt he should advert his gaze, because the look she gave Dimitri was so affectionate, so full of love it was almost too intimate to be seen in public. It made something in Sylvain’s chest twist, and he wasn’t sure he cared to investigate just what the cause was.

“You’re not dancing?” Dimitri asked, returning to his wife’s side. “That’s out of character for you, Sylvain. I’d have thought you’d have made your way through half the eligible young ladies by now.”

“And, some of the ineligible ones too,” added Byleth dryly.

Dimitri laughed, looking at Byleth like she had just said the wittiest thing imaginable. Sylvain would admit she did get him, but it wasn’t _that_ funny. Couples in love were so strange.

“Alas,” Sylvain said tragically. “If I go, who will keep our sour friend company?” He gestured to Felix who had gone back to leaning against the wall.

“Oh please.” Said Felix in a slightly annoyed tone, “Don’t martyr yourself on my account.”

“You’re right.” Sylvain drained his glass; “I shouldn’t deprive the ladies of my company any longer.”

“Farewell, the next time we meet may well be when I organize one of these for myself.”

Sylvain froze in the act of setting his champagne flute on the table. It really did feel as if he had gone cold, ice pricked down his spine, and then he suddenly felt hot.

“What?”

Felix’s expression hadn’t changed. He looked coolly aloof, if slightly irritated, but that was just his face these days.

“What did you just say?”

Felix made a small impatient sound, presumably at having to repeat himself, “I’ve been told I need to consider marriage. Sooner rather than later.”

Frowning, Dimitri asked, “Who has told you?”

“My advisors.” Felix replied simply. “It’s just me now. It would be wise if I ‘secured my house with heirs.’” Felix’s tone was bored.

Sylvain felt as if the ground were falling out from under him.

Dimitri said something to Felix in return that Sylvain didn’t catch; there was a ringing in his ears. Byleth had come up to him, tugged on his sleeve and asked quietly. “Sylvain, do you feel ill? You’ve gone very white.”

Sylvain realized he had been staring at Felix almost unblinkingly. He tore his gaze away to look at Byleth’s concerned face. “I think I drank the champagne too quickly, went straight to my head.” He tried for a smile.

From the look Byleth gave him, Sylvain didn’t think he had convinced her, but, blessedly, she didn’t try to press him. Instead she gave him another look, and said, “Would you like me to ask Mercedes to come help you?”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you for the concern,” Sylvain smiled again, doing a better job at approximating his usual charming smile.

“ – don’t think of it like that then. Felix, you know I mean to make reform, I could do this, I _want_ to do this, and I would only express my desire to see you betrothed to someone of my choosing to buy you time. You know I would never force you into anything.”

Now Sylvain tuned back into the conversation, feeling as if his ears were perking up.

“And, I’ve already said I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” Dimitri demanded. “You’re referring to the possibility of an arranged marriage as a battle! And, if that’s how you feel, then you needn’t fight it at all!”

Feeling suddenly like he couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer, not while he had to listen to Felix refuse to do anything about that stupid marriage, he turned suddenly. Grabbing a bottle of what was closest to him, Sylvain made his way out of the hall.

Sylvain wandered around the grounds for some time, idly drinking the bottle of, he discovered after his first drink, white wine. Eventually he found his way to the training grounds. There he stumbled into the sandpit, and leaned against the short wall surrounding it. He drank deeply, feeling his head go fuzzy.

How many times had they come to train here, the four of them? Ingrid, Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain, all of them children together, all of them doing their best to become strong enough to fight alongside the others. He had never really seriously contemplated the future beyond the war. It had been enough to know in an abstract way that he would one day marry, that they all would, as was their duty, but Sylvain had always braced himself for what that would mean for him personally, _his_ marriage, _his_ partner. He had never considered what it would mean when the others married. When Felix married.

The thought of it, even now, after half a bottle of wine, made something hot and angry twist in his stomach. It made his heart squeeze. Sylvain wanted to hurl the bottle across the yard, he wanted to run out into the night and disappear.

And, at the same time he wanted to go back into the hall, find Felix and Dimitri, and demand they put an end to the whole thing. Dimitri was King; he could simply command the advisors to leave Felix alone. And, he was offering Felix an out; Felix should just take it, the stupid, arrogant, intransigent man –

As if summoned by his thoughts, Sylvain suddenly heard someone enter the training grounds. He looked up, feeling that if he hadn’t been intoxicated he would have picked up on this presence far sooner, but Sylvain was aware of him only a moment before he stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight.

Felix stopped at the edge of the sandpit, crossed his arms, and looked down at Sylvain. He raised one arched eyebrow.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to go to the training grounds.”

Sylvain threw his head back and laughed. He was laughing too hard and too long, he was distantly aware, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. When the laughter subsided he smiled at Felix who was now looking at him with an expression that almost seemed worried. But, of course, it was Sylvain who was worried. Concerned, even, that Felix would be trapped in a loveless marriage, would embitter his life just when he was starting to open up again, tie himself to someone who didn’t know him, or even like him. Sylvain had a right to be concerned for his friend, that wasn’t something he would wish on anyone.

“Feel free to step over me and train at your leisure,” Sylvain replied, raising the bottle, as if to toast Felix, and taking another drink.

He felt Felix move into the pit, and a moment later had the bottle wrenched from his hand. Wine splashed on his jacket.

“Hey!”

“That’s enough for tonight, you drunkard.” Felix sat next to him, putting the bottle on the other side of himself. “Do you care to explain why you wandered out on your own? It’s been a pain trying to find you.”

“Why bother then? I was fine on my own.”

“Yes, you seem _very_ put together at the moment.”

Sylvain glanced down at himself. He was wearing a dark blue suit lined with silver that had somehow become covered in mud as well as sand. Looking down at his jacket Sylvain realized he had caught the hem somewhere, but he didn’t remember that happening, he frowned thoughtfully.

“You’re drunk.” Felix sounded very unimpressed.

Sylvain looked up again at Felix. His clothes were still neat and tidy, though when they got up he would also be covered in sand. He was wearing pale green that brought the gold out in his brown eyes, and his long hair was braided instead of bound up as it usually was. Sylvain suddenly wanted to take off the hair tie, watch Felix’s braid unravel in his fingers and see the way the dark strands framed Felix’s face.

Something hot twisted in Sylvain’s stomach, but this time the feeling behind it was not anger.

“You’re getting married.” Sylvain replied.

Felix looked at him for a moment. His brown eyes were dark, the shadows under them pronounced in the light of the moon, and his pale skin seemed to glimmer in the silvery light.

The same feeling moved in Sylvain again, but hotter, and much lower.

“Jealous? It’ll be your turn soon enough. I’d have thought you’d be happy to have more time to flit from woman to woman.”

“That doesn’t make me happy.”

The two young men looked at each other. Sylvain wanted to say something else, something more, but he couldn’t think properly. He realized if he opened his mouth, he didn’t know what words would find their way out.

“You’re drunk,” Felix said again. “Come, now that I’ve spent all this time looking for you, I may as well get you back to your room. You are a real pain in my neck, did you know that?”

Felix got up smoothly; dusted his clothes off, then extended a hand toward Sylvain. He looked at it for a second, and then clasped it, feeling Felix’s strong grip haul him up. Felix was significantly shorter than him, but he was deceptively strong, and he felt that strength now, almost effortlessly pulling Sylvain up. Felix’s hand was calloused and warm, and when he let go Sylvain almost asked him to take his hand again.

They walked silently back to the room Sylvain was staying in, conveniently the one right next to Felix’s.

“Now, go to sleep and sober up.” Felix said, by way of goodnight.

“Wait,” Sylvain caught his arm as he made to leave. “Help me – take off my boots?”

Felix sighed in exasperation. “Are you a child? Am I your keeper? Just sleep with them on!”

“Come on, please? In the name of our friendship, Felix.”

He saw Felix waver.

“This is what you want to invoke our friendship for?” Felix pulled his arm free and walked past Sylvain into Sylvain’s room. “I can’t believe an idiot saved my life.”

Sylvain smiled, following him in. They went into Sylvain’s room where he sat heavily on his bed and began to gracelessly struggle with the buttons of his jacket. There were quite a few, all of them small, and difficult to unclasp with alcohol addled fine motor skills.

Felix was kneeling in front of Sylvain, pulling off his boots with the speedy efficiency of the sober, by contrast. And, by the time Felix looked up from Sylvain’s now stocking feet, Sylvain had only managed to unclasp a quarter of his buttons, and not in sequence. He caught Felix’s eye in that moment, and felt his heart beat hard in his chest.

Felix kneeling before him, in the dimly lit room, rising up on his knees to unbutton Sylvain’s jacket, he felt Felix’s hot breath on the exposed skin of his neck.

Sylvain seemed to have missed the moment between thought and action, because one second he was sitting, and the next he was lying on the ground.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

Not only was Sylvain now lying on the ground, but he had also knocked Felix back, and gotten on top of him. He was breathing hard; looking down at a stunned Felix whose expression was rapidly turning from surprise to anger.

“Stay,” Sylvain blurted.

“What?” Felix pushed on Sylvain’s chest, and he only allowed himself to be moved back a fraction, so that his arms were almost completely extended, and he hovered over his friend. But, he didn’t get off Felix.

“Stay,” Sylvain said again, “I want you to stay. I want – “ Clearly no longer thinking logically at all, Sylvain dropped his head, and kissed the side of Felix’s jaw.

He heard a surprised intake of air, and then felt Felix’s hand on his shoulder. Fingers gripped the material of Sylvain’s jacket, half unbuttoned, and hanging open. Felix pushed him back again, and Sylvain lifted his head to look at him. He had never seen that look on Felix’s face before; Sylvain didn’t know how to read his expression.

Feeling almost like there was nothing more to lose, Sylvain let his hand wander down to Felix’s thigh, running it up, and stopping short just before the apex.

“Stay,” he whispered. He heard the pleading in his own voice.

For a moment that felt endless, electric, and terrifying, Felix neither did nor said anything. Sylvain felt himself sober up and begin to panic.

Then, all of a sudden, Felix took Sylvain’s hand and pressed it up to his unmistakable hardness.

From there things happened quickly. Sylvain pulled on the ties of Felix’s trousers, and Felix brushed his hand impatiently aside, deftly undoing his own ties, and then working on Sylvain’s.

Neither of them stopped to think, but when they touched each other, it was in a moment of closed eyed pleasure. Felix was hot and hard, and after only a few seconds, leaking into Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain could tell he was trying to keep his breathing even, but as they kept going Felix didn’t seem able to stop his breath from coming out ragged, as if he had just run a great distance. Sylvain lowered his head to kiss him, unthinkingly, but Felix turned away.

Feeling almost darkly amused, Sylvain bit Felix’s jaw instead, and pressed his thumb down on the wet head. He felt Felix tense, the fingers gripping the material at Sylvain’s shoulder tightened, and then Felix shuddered, coming with a small choked sound.

“That was fast,” Sylvain remarked, breathlessly, and clearly without any sense of self-preservation.

“Shut up,” Felix breathed out.

Sylvain laughed, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. Felix turned back to look at him, his pale skin flushed so beautifully it made something in Sylvain ache, and he felt his smile soften.

“You – you pushy asshole.” Felix’s hand began to move again. He let go of Sylvain’s jacket to reach down with both hands, and a moment later Sylvain dropped his head against Felix’s shoulder as his orgasm hit. The rush he felt was better by far than anything he had ever experienced. It surprised him how _good_ it felt. Most surprising of all was how full Sylvain’s heart suddenly was, as if it was brimming with something warm and liquid.

As his breathing evened out, Sylvain pulled at Felix’s collar to kiss the warm space between his neck and shoulder, unconsciously breathing deeply to take in his scent.

“Get off.”

The warmth that Sylvain had been feeling, as if a small sun sat in his chest heating him from the inside, filling him up, and making him feel as if he were glowing, vanished with those two words.

Instead, now he felt as if ice water had been poured down his back. He felt Felix push at him, roughly, and this time he got up, sitting back on his knees. Felix sat up too, wiping his hands on his pant leg, tugging his trousers closed, tying the lacing up with an almost vicious speed. He didn’t look at Sylvain.

Feeling as if the bottom of his stomach had dropped out, Sylvain swallowed. He hastily tied his own trousers shut, and said, tentatively, with mounting fear. “Felix?”

But, Felix didn’t look at him. He got up, pulling his clothes straight, and without so much as acknowledging Sylvain’s presence, walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished playing the game at like 2am, and I was just lying in bed plotting out this fic. Like, some of the scenes played out like a movie, and others I composed line by line in my head. I cannot stop thinking about this, so I'll be here trying to get it out of my head. 
> 
> Also, this was only mild smut, it's gonna get more explicit for sure, though hopefully you find it tasteful, because I am first and foremost about the feeeeeeeeeeeelings!!!! 
> 
> Please talk to me about these disasters! Leave a comment or find me on [tumblr](nightofviolet.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/snow_falls4)! Thanks for reading!!! ^^


	2. Two Weeks

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions  
I keep my visions to myself, it's only me  
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and,  
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

- _Dreams_ , Fleetwood Mac

_Sylvain ran his hand up pale skin, feeling firm muscle flex under his touch._

_“Sylvain.”_

_His name was a gasp, a breathy exhale that made Sylvain’s blood and breath quicken. Pressing oiled fingers in welcoming heat he heard his name again, this time broken, with the last syllable drawn out._

_There were strong hands grasping his hand, and then urging him to lower his head for a kiss. Sylvain went willingly, pressing into the warm body with tongue and fingers, feeling his own desire mount with his partner’s. The kiss was long and heated, and as good as it was, it still wasn’t enough._

_A gasp into his mouth made Sylvain pull back, through the haze of desire his gaze seemed to finally focus on the person under him. White skin, dark eyes, and darker hair fanned out around his face, the way Felix was looking at him made Sylvain hot all over._

_“Sylvain,” Felix said in a voice full of want. “Please.”_

_Sylvain withdrew his fingers, helpless to do anything but what was asked of him. Just before he did, feeling the place they both wanted him to enter, Felix put his hand on Sylvain’s arm, stopping him._

_His eyes burning into Sylvain, Felix said, “Sylvain, I lo – “_

A sudden banging on his door jolted Sylvain awake. He sat up hurriedly, feeling his head spin. Disoriented, aroused, guilty, Sylvain got up slowly to answer the door.

“Yes?” He rasped, blinking into the light of the corridor.

A young boy stood at his door, one of his squires, Sylvain realized after much too long.

“My lord,” the boy greeted, bowing hurriedly. “You asked that I wake you in time for breakfast before the other guests depart. Most of them are there already, sir.”

“Yes.” Sylvain said, scrubbing a hand over his face, and then through his hair. Glancing quickly at the door to the left of his own, he asked lowering his voice. “And, what of Felix? Is he there?”

The squire shook his head. “Lord Fraldarius left at dawn.”

Although he shouldn’t have been surprised by this information, which was very much like Felix, Sylvain still felt both his stomach and heart sink. In a very small way however, he was also relieved. How on earth would he have faced Felix at breakfast in front of all the others? There was no way he was going to be able to act naturally after – everything.

“I see,” Sylvain said, after a pause that made the young squire squirm. “Thank you,” he added, remembering his manners belatedly. “We’ll be departing after breakfast then.”

The young boy bowed, and hurried off. Sylvain went back into his room, sighing as he shut the door. Closing his eyes he saw again the images from his dream, they mingled with his waking memories, and Sylvain had to forcefully push them aside. Guilt clenched his gut, and shame made his face hot. What exactly was he doing? And more importantly, what had he done to his closest, dearest friend?

“You look like hell,” said Catherine cheerfully sitting next to Sylvain.

“Good morning to you too,” Sylvain replied dryly.

“Oh, come on,” Catherine punched his shoulder, just a little too hard. “I thought you’d appreciate the warning before you went off to chase skirts. You’ll scare them away with that face.” She pointed her fork at him.

“I’m not going to ‘chase skirts,’ not that I ever did. I simply offered my time to young ladies.” Sylvain took a long drink of tea; he was having a hard time getting the fuzzy taste of alcohol off his tongue.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. “You know, when you say it like that, it sounds a bit like something else.”

There was a beat of silence as Sylvain’s tired mind processed her words, and then he coughed, sputtering.

Catherine clapped his back hard, in an attempt to be helpful, Sylvain assumed, but he would likely have bruises tomorrow.

“Catherine!”

She laughed. “You’re off today, aren’t you? I think normally you’d have talked your way around that. What’s wrong? Looks like you obviously drank too much, but you look like someone took away your favourite toy.”

Sylvain grimaced at that particular example. “Nothing I just – “ He paused, not sure how to finish his thought.

“Something happen with Felix?”

He looked at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

Catherine shrugged. “I saw him training, out with the sunrise, practicing like he was preparing to face his worst enemy. Then, he left in a huff, figured something happened.”

Guilt, now a familiar feeling when his thoughts strayed to Felix, stirred in his stomach.

“We – fought.”

“Fought, huh?” Catherine gave him a look that Sylvain wasn’t wholly comfortable with. “Well, you two have been friends since you were children right? You should go and apologize.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Sylvain replied slowly, remembering the way Felix refused to look at him as he left Sylvain’s room.

“Sure you can.” Said Catherine, as if it really were that simple. “Just go see him, tell him ‘sorry,’ and then offer him an apology training session. That always works for me when Shamir gets on my nerves, and Felix seems to be cut out of similar cloth.”

Sylvain had never thought of that before, but Catherine probably had a point. “I didn’t think Shamir was one for emotional displays.”

“She’s not,” Catherine said around a bite of her food. “But, we’ve known each other for a while now, and it wasn’t easy, but I got her to open up to me.”

“You two are close,” Sylvain said, almost wistfully. “That’s nice.”

Catherine looked at him again, and the smile she gave him was almost knowing. “Yes,” she agreed. “We are. She’s my partner through thick and thin, the one person I want at my back in every battle, and the only person I let test my patience like that.” She paused, and picked up her cup. “The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to imagine what life would be like without her now. I don’t know how you feel about Felix, but if you care for him the way I think you do, you’ll find a way to apologize.”

Sylvain almost wanted to ask Catherine what she thought his feelings were, out of sheer curiosity, but also in the hope that she would shed some light on his tumultuous emotions. He didn’t, instead he nodded, feeling his stomach tense with the desire to finally take action.

Later, Sylvain had a moment to bid his newly married friends farewell.

“Thank you for coming to celebrate with us,” said Dimitri, politely, as if he were speaking to a newly met acquaintance.

Sylvain sighed, punched his arm lightly, and embraced his friend. “You may be my King,” Sylvain said, as he held his friend hard. “But, you’re my friend too. I didn’t fight in that war so you could act like we just met.”

Beside them Byleth laughed, and Dimitri was smiling when Sylvain pulled back, letting him go. “You’re right, forgive – I mean, sorry.” Dimitri shook his head. “Sometimes I just – I suppose I’m still trying to keep people at arm’s length. Going back to politeness instead of brashness. But, you’re right, you’re my friend and there’s no need to stand on ceremony.” He punched Sylvain on the arm in turn, unfortunately right where Catherine had done that morning; Sylvain tried not to wince. “Come back any time, you’re always welcome here, Sylvain. And, if you ever have need of anything, you have only to ask.”

Sylvain nodded. “Thank you, I may hold you to that.”

Before Sylvain could make his way to Fraldarius, he had to go back to Gautier. He had been hoping to stay at the palace longer, at least a week. He had seen it all in his mind’s eye in the time leading up to the wedding. Finally, a break from all the pressures of his position, a chance to be out from under his father’s eye, and thumb. He had even been looking forward to Felix’s relentless demands that he train harder, had even been willing to indulge him, but after everything that had happened he thought it would be best to go back. The sooner he went back to Gautier, the sooner he could see Felix.

As he got closer and closer to his estate however, he felt his pace slow. Felix wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel the pressure to marry.

It was a little different for Sylvain, his father was alive, and well, as well as he could be for having a son dead after turning into an abomination. But, he had only one heir, and Sylvain no longer had the excuse of being busy with the war to put off marriage. His father seemed willing to be somewhat patient with him, but this was the man who had pretended Miklan was not his son after it was discovered he had no crest, there was only so much compassion that could be expected from him.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Jeremy, one of Sylvain’s attendants took his things as Sylvain dismounted his horse and gave the reins to one of the stable workers. “Your father has requested you see him before he retires for the evening. You will find him in his rooms.”

Since Sylvain had been dragging his feet the last leg of their trip back they had arrived just as night was falling.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” he handed him the one bag he had brought with him. “Please take this to my quarters.” He sighed, “I’ll go to my father now.”

Jeremy gave him an encouraging smile. Sylvain nodded once, and set off.

He wasn’t sure when it was that this place had stopped feeling like home. Was it when he had gone to live at the academy? When Sylvain had been named heir? Or when it had been discovered that his brother bore no crest? Regardless, it had been years now that home was wherever his brother’s in arms were, whether it was Garreg Mach, or a campsite by the battlefield, if it was where his friends were, then Sylvain felt he was where he belonged.

Coming back here after the war made him realize that, and the thought that he might not be welcome back at Felix’s side now made his chest feel tight. Felix was part of what made those places feel like home.

Arriving at the door to his father’s quarters, Sylvain paused. He took a deep breath, and rapped sharply on the door as he exhaled.

“Come in.”

Pushing down the urge to turn and leave, Sylvain walked into the room.

Margrave sat at his desk by the fire in his study. A man solidly built, firmly in his middle years; out of his two sons, Miklan had more closely resembled their father.

“I didn’t expect you back for another few days,” his father said by way of greeting, without looking up from whatever he was currently writing. “Finally taking your duties seriously? Good, there are many to attend to.”

Sylvain clasped his hands behind his back. “It’s good to see you too, father.”

Margrave ignored this, with the hand that wasn’t busy scribbling away, he gestured to a pile of papers at the corner of his desk. “These need your attention. Be sure to have them done by the end of the week.”

Sylvain walked forward automatically to take the sizable stack of papers his father had indicated. “Is there anything else you need from me, father?” Sylvain asked, trying, and not quite succeeding in sounding like a disgruntled server forced into politeness.

“No,” said Margrave. He paused, frowning thoughtfully down at his desk, then continued to write, and Sylvain understood he was dismissed.

“Goodnight, father.” Sylvain said, bowing slightly.

His father deigned to acknowledge him with a slight hand wave. Sylvain could not retreat fast enough.

*

“My lord, have you reviewed the cloth and textiles trade agreement?”

Sylvain put his quill down and stretched his arms up over his head. Leaning back in his chair he dropped his head back stretching out his stiff neck. It felt as if all he had done since arriving back at the estate was sit at this desk and attend to paperwork. His body craved movement, but the pile of letters, petitions, reports, and all other manner of paperwork seemed only to grow larger, despite his valiant efforts to produce the opposite effect.

“Yes,” said Sylvain on an exhale.

“Good,” Jeremy said, and set down a small bundle of papers on the corner of Sylvain’s desk. “These letters concern that agreement.”

Sylvain sat back properly, and stared gloomily at all the work that seemed to loom before him. When he was younger Sylvain had had no problem shirking his duties, there was always something, or rather someone, else to get up to, but now he wanted nothing more than to finish his work as fast as he could. And, he had heard more than one member of the household staff comment on his sudden diligence, though they had all been rather unflattering.

_“Master Sylvain working seriously? Oh my, we’ll see pigs fly next.”_

But, Sylvain ignored them, and the days wore on.

“There you are, Sylvain.”

Sylvain looked up from his desk, feeling his sore neck pop at the sudden movement. His spine ached, Sylvain blinked blurry eyes at his father who he had not seen in days. Sylvain had barely slept last night, staying up late and waking early to deal with a particularly complicated property dispute. Sylvain had sat hearing petitions all day yesterday, and hadn’t had time to handle any of the paperwork that followed until the middle of the night.

Margrave strode into Sylvain’s small study, into his personal quarters, without so much as a courteous knock to announce his presence.

“When you’ve finished all that,” Margrave gestured to the piles of papers on Sylvain’s overcrowded desk, “See that you deal with this.” He handed the papers to Sylvain who took them in a hand cramping from long hours holding a quill. “Think of it as a sort of reward for all this work,” he said. “Oh, and when you come back I have some marriage offers you may view at your leisure.” Margrave turned and left without a word of explanation.

Sylvain got up, feeling instant relief in the tension along his spine. He walked over to the small service tray in the corner of his study and poured himself cold bergamot tea. He was passed caring about proper serving; he only cared for the revitalizing affects of this particular tea, which should hopefully wake him up a little.

Unable to stifle a yawn, Sylvain flipped idly through, what he now realized was, a contract. He paused with the cup of tea at his lips.

_Dukedom of Fraldarius and Margravate of Gautier_

_Trade Agreement_

His father was sending him to negotiate a trade agreement with Fraldarius.

Sylvain threw back the tea like it would vanish if he didn’t drink it in the next second, hastily put the cup down, and hurried back over to his desk. He began to work with renewed vigour.

*

Between all the new paperwork, and Sylvain’s regular duties, it was a full two weeks before he was able to leave for Fraldarius.

He had never worked so furiously before, and while it wasn’t ideal, the one good thing that could be said about it was that it kept his mind off of Felix.

There were a great many times his mind wandered back to the feel of him, his smell, the sound of his fast breathing, but then there was always some report to read over, or some letter to draft, and his mind could be otherwise occupied. And, even better, Sylvain didn’t have to dwell on how terribly he had acted.

Now, on the day’s ride to Fraldarius Sylvain had nothing but time to consider what a complete ass he had been.

At first Sylvain had been inclined to blame the alcohol. He had been intoxicated, and lonely, and Felix had been a warm body within reach. And, while that did fit the reputation Sylvain had cultivated, it wasn’t true, at least not in this instance. It was precisely because it was _Felix_ there that Sylvain had lost his head. Knowing that he would soon be married, that someone else would have him had sparked something in Sylvain he hadn’t been able to tamp down.

And, the more he thought about it, the more it felt as if he had been too forceful. He hadn’t given Felix enough space to say no. He had pressured him. Sylvain felt sick thinking that he had coerced his friend into something he hadn’t wanted. That, maybe Felix had relented out of fear, out of discomfort, and he had left the way he did because he could not stand to look at Sylvain.

Sylvain couldn’t blame him. He was having trouble putting up with his own self now.

In the long hours of the journey to Fraldarius Sylvain attempted to compose an apology to Felix in his head. As inadequate as it was to simply apologize, it felt infinitely worse not to at all. But, what could he possibly say?

_Felix, please forgive me..._

No.

_Felix, I’m so incredibly sorry…_

Not that either.

_I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, and I acted rashly. I’m sorry._

Sylvain sighed. Ordinarily attendants would have accompanied him, but he had refused them, and he had argued to leave the token guard his father wanted to accompany him behind, and so no one was around to hear how heart felt that sigh was, which was just as well. There were rumours now that something must be wrong with him because he had not sought the company of any young lady since coming back from the King’s wedding, and maybe there was something wrong. He had never felt like this before.

“Felix,” he said out loud, the wind picking up his words and making them inaudible to his own ears. “I don’t know what to say, but I’m so sorry.”

The sun was setting by the time Sylvain arrived in Fraldarius. Energized in a tired sort of way, Sylvain dismounted his horse and asked the young boy who took his horse’s reins, “Where can I find your master?”

Without hesitating the young boy replied, “Out in the training grounds, sir.”

Of course.

“Thank you.”

Sylvain made directly for Felix. He knew this place as well as he knew his own estate, and without thinking his feet brought him to the training grounds. As he got closer, he heard the tell tale sounds of someone practicing. Sylvain felt his stomach tense with nerves, but he ignored them and kept going.

Felix’s back was to him. He was practicing not with a training sword, but with one of steel, the sharpened blade gleamed in the light of newly lit braziers. Felix was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt; on a rack that held axes he had draped his blue coat.

Turning with the motion of his sword work, Felix finally faced him. He paused in the act of swinging.

Sylvain tried for a smile, “Hello, Felix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that a lot of the characters in fe3h have pretty shitty dads, huh? I mean, we don't know canonically too much about Margrave, but I don't think he would have been wonderful if his two sons ended up with a lot of trauma.
> 
> Let me know what you thought, and next chapter up soon! ^^


	3. The Lie

When you're ready, just say you're ready  
When all the baggage just ain't as heavy  
And the party's over, just don't forget me  
We'll change the pace and we'll just go slow

- _Take Care,_ Drake ft. Rhianna

If there was one thing Felix was very good at it was discipline.

He hadn’t always been. Sylvain liked to tease him that he had once been soft and sweet, trailing after Sylvain wherever he went, and truthfully, he wasn’t wrong, Felix _had_ been like that. But, then two things happened around the same time.

The first was the war with Duscar.

Although Felix had been too young to fight when it had first broken out, the fact that his family, father and older brother, would be fighting had robbed him of his halcyon days. He grew serious about his training, out long hours, his hands blistering, his arms aching, and his lips cracked and bleeding from how hard he bit them in concentration.

That had been the catalyst of course; his main reason for losing his childish softness in long days of practice.

The second reason was Sylvain.

*

“My Lord, this letter just came for you.”

Felix finished pulling on his gloves, and then took the envelope. “Thank you,” he said, the messenger bowed, and retreated.

He was walking down the corridor headed to his audience chambers, beside him were his steward, who had been overseeing Fraldarius’s affairs in Felix’s absence during the war, and Felix’s scribe.

Quickly opening the envelope, he scanned the letter inside. It began:

_Dear Felix,_

_I know you asked that I not meddle, however I don’t think I can simply do nothing._

Felix folded the letter back up, trying not to scowl. The letter was from Dimitri, and Felix didn’t need to read the whole thing to know what it was about. He had explicitly stated he didn’t want nor need Dimitri to interfere, and of course the stubborn boar had barrelled ahead without heeding his wishes anyway. Felix felt anger stir in his gut, distantly he was aware that he wasn’t really upset with Dimitri himself, but it was easier to be angry with a person rather than an abstract construct such as the idea of inheritance, and “noble” tradition. But, more importantly, Felix hated having false hope, and he was sure that was all Dimitri could offer him.

He clutched the letter in his hand, and then roughly stuffed it into the inside pocket of his coat, he might read it in full later. Right now he needed to regain his calm in order to properly serve his people.

Arriving at his audience chambers, the ceremonial guards held the doors open for him, saluted, and announced him.

“His Grace, Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

Felix strode across the room, taking the seat that used to be his father’s and should have been Glenn’s. He signalled, and his scribe, rushing to keep up with him, announced the name of the first petitioner, and so, his day commenced.

Later, after many hours sitting still, it was a relief to be out on the training grounds. It was Felix’s new habit to fulfill his duties of the day, and then spend long hours training. Not out of the norm for him, but lately he had been out until his arms shook, and he had just enough energy to eat something, wash off, and fall into bed.

This new custom had started just over two weeks ago.

The sun sat low on the horizon, but Felix ignored the lessening light, and then ignored the servants who came in and lit the braziers. He closed his eyes in concentration.

_Lips, soft and warm placed a kiss on his jaw. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest._

Felix thrust out suddenly, slashing at an imaginary foe, using the momentum to pivot, turning neatly on the spot.

_Hot breath fanned his ear, the sound of Sylvain’s breath catching made Felix shiver._

He parried an invisible strike, side stepping with the same movement, catching an imaginary strike to his side, and swinging out again.

_His insides felt like they were made of liquid fire, Felix had never felt so hot. He couldn’t feel anything but Sylvain, he couldn’t think about anything but Sylvain, he couldn’t_ think –

A frustrated growl burst out of Felix as he threw his sword with such force it lodged itself into one of the wooden posts holding up training lances. Felix was breathing heavily, not entirely from exertion, or even from frustration, but from something very different he had been trying to suppress for weeks now. It had never been this difficult for Felix to force something from his mind.

If Felix was good at anything, he was good at discipline. He could overcome this through the sheer strength of his will. Really, this was not much different than what he had already been doing.

Unbidden came another memory.

_“Stay.” Sylvain’s voice was soft, it was the pleading in it that undid Felix._

In the present Felix stalked over to the lances and yanked his sword free, despite his rough movements; he remembered to be careful not to break the entire stand while he did so. It would have to be repaired, but it was fine like that until tomorrow.

Felix walked back into the training circle and determinedly made his way through familiar training exercises.

When he first got back from the capitol some of his men had offered to train with him, as was their custom. But Felix had been fighting so fiercely none of them could keep up, and in fact were in danger if either of them made even the smallest mistake, regardless of whether or not they used training swords. Wary, and not a little intimidated, they had all left Felix to his own devices, which was really better for everyone. Felix could do just fine on his own, and really no one here could match him anyway.

Settling into a familiar stance, he made it only half a minute before he felt another presence in the training ground. Felix realized who it was one second before he turned and saw him.

“Hello Felix,” Sylvain greeted, smiling at him.

There were two entirely different impulses warring in him at the sight of his childhood friend. Both were rather violent, but in Felix’s mind only one of them played out in the open training ground, where they might be interrupted at any moment.

“Felix?”

He hadn’t responded, he realized. “What are you doing here?” Felix asked, rudely, only slightly out of breath.

Sylvain had the grace to look abashed. Good, he hadn’t announced his presence or the intention of visiting, not that he ever did, but Sylvain had some nerve showing his face to Felix now like nothing had happened.

“I’ve come on behalf of Gauiter to negotiate some trade terms.” Sylvain took out a thick envelope from the inside of his coat and showed it to Felix, who made no move to take it. When it was obvious to Sylvain he was holding his papers out for no reason, he withdrew his hand, and somewhat awkwardly put the envelope back. He glanced away from Felix, and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Felix, I wanted to say – “

“Stop.”

Sylvain looked back at him in surprise.

“You owe me a match.” Standing before him at last was the reason Felix was so annoyed all the time.

Sylvain gave him a look, a mix of surprise and uncertainty, “I do?”

“Yes,” Felix said curtly, walking over to the rack holding the steel swords, picking one up, and then heading back. He held it out hilt first to Sylvain. “From the wedding.”

Instantly Sylvain’s expression turned to one of discomfort at the mention of the wedding, but he quickly smoothed it over. “I’m not sure I really agreed – “ Felix narrowed his eyes at him, and Sylvain hastily changed course, “Alright, alright.” He unbuckled his coat; tossing it onto the same rack Felix’s was draped over, and took the sword from him. “Should we be using steel?”

“Why?” Felix asked, walking to the other side of the circle, eager to face the source of his frustration head on with a sword. “Do you think if you used a stronger metal against me it would improve your odds? It won’t.”

Sylvain's eyebrows disappeared under his bright red fringe. “I’ll concede that you’re a better sword fighter, Goddess knows you train harder than anyone, but I’m not without proficiency – “

“Then stop running your mouth and prove it.”

Sylvain’s mouth closed with a snap, and he seemed to consider Felix for a moment. Felix thought he might say something else, or change his mind, but Sylvain merely tested the weight of the sword in his hand. He adjusted his grip, and took up a fighting stance.

“Try not to run me through then.” Sylvain said, and it sounded as if he was only partly joking.

“Not confident enough in your own skill to stop me?” Felix asked, taking up his own stance, feeling the anticipation of the fight move through him like the blood in his veins.

They began to circle each other, and Sylvain replied; “I’m not sure I’m confident about anything where you’re concerned.”

Felix frowned at this, but chose not to reply.

Without warning, Felix stepped in and struck. Sylvain’s sword came up; he looked surprised. Felix had put real strength into his swing, if Sylvain had reacted a second slower Felix’s sword would have cut clean across Sylvain’s chest.

Sylvain’s expression turned from surprise to grim determination, and Felix felt both satisfied and annoyed. He should have been taking Felix seriously from the start. Without missing a beat, Felix struck again; feinting left, and then letting his sword come up with the same motion. Sylvain blocked, parried, and side stepped, but right away he had been put on the defensive.

Felix hit him again and again. The clang of steel on steel rang out, drowning out the sound of their quickened breathing.

Stupid Sylvain. How dare he come into Felix’s home with the same expression he always wore, with his ridiculously bright hair, and his eyes like sunlight?

Sylvain was always the one who found the weak points in Felix’s armour, hitting him with such precision sometimes it felt as though it must be intentional. As if he knew how Felix felt, and took deliberate, hurtful jabs at him. Like he did when he talked about his recent conquests, or when he had suddenly asked Felix to stay two weeks ago.

_At Sylvain’s first touch Felix closed his eyes. If he had let himself imagine what it would be like to let Sylvain touch him he still wouldn’t have been fully prepared for the reality. Sylvain’s touch was like lightning, electric, terrifying, and yet natural; which was perhaps the most frightening part._

“I told you I – “ Sylvain started to say, and then broke off to dodge a swing that came dangerously close to his face. He leapt back, out of the training circle, and made no move to come back in. “Felix – “ He started, but Felix didn’t let him continue, he jumped out, following Sylvain, and aimed another swing at him.

Sylvain parried, now with a slightly panicked air. He moved around displays, racks, and barriers, Felix relentlessly chasing him, growing more and more annoyed as Sylvain tried to slip away from him.

This was typical of Sylvain, trying to weasel his way out of something instead of facing it head on. Like the way he led on all those girls, waiting for them to get tired of his avoidance and then playing the tragic victim when they angrily broke up with him, golden eyes soft and lambent. How many times had he come to Felix with news that he had broken up with yet another girl?

Jumping up onto the rack that held the practice lances, Felix struck again, this time catching Sylvain on the shoulder; blood bloomed on Sylvain’s white shirt. The rack made an ominous cracking sound as Felix leapt down, and the force of his swing knocked the sword out of Sylvain’s hand. Looking around wildly, Sylvain picked up what was closest to him, a bow. He was no where near as skilled at close combat with a bow as someone like Ashe or Shamir might be, but Sylvain still knew the basics. He managed to parry with the bow, though it was obvious from Sylvain’s stance he was on unsure footing.

Sylvain was breathing hard now, his bright hair was darkened by sweat, and his fringe stuck to his forehead. He was flushed a shade lighter than his hair, and his collar had worked open, exposing the strong lines of his long neck.

Feeling annoyance bubble up in him again, Felix swung wide.

To his utter surprise, Sylvain stepped in, caught Felix’s wrist in the arc of the bow, and wrenched it up. His sword came flying out of his hand.

Both young men stared at each other in surprise for a moment.

Felix recovered first, bringing his fists up; he kneed Sylvain in the stomach. His friend doubled over, and Felix knocked the bow from his hands. In the next second Sylvain grabbed him around the middle, they staggered together a couple of steps, Felix making a noise of surprise, and then they hit something hard.

The lance rack behind them, already compromised from Felix’s earlier attack, cracked when they fell upon it. They went down with a fantastic crash.

Having the wind knocked out of them they both lay still for a moment, but then Felix reached out, and grabbed the broken head of a nearby lance. When Sylvain lifted his head from where it hung between Felix’s neck and shoulder, Felix pressed the tip of the lance to Sylvain’s throat.

Sylvain surprised Felix by smiling. What was more, his expression seemed almost fond. “You win,” he said.

“Get off,” Felix growled, unconsciously echoing the last words he had said to Sylvain two weeks ago.

Sylvain got up slowly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, sitting back on his heels. Felix followed, the lance still at Sylvain’s throat. The violence that had stirred in Felix at the first sight of Sylvain was there again. Strong conflicting urges warred in him, the urge to push Sylvain away, or to push him down, so that this time Felix was the one on top. He could feel his breathing quicken as his treacherous thoughts helpfully supplied memories for his imagination to use as an example of what that might be like. Sylvain was watching him, and when Felix didn’t move, the tip of the lance just barely touching skin, he reached out, and carefully brushed a lock of Felix’s hair behind his ear.

“Felix.”

The way Sylvain said his name made something in Felix give. It felt almost like his knees giving out after endurance training; it folded neatly, exposing his soft heart.

Feeling suddenly that they were much too close, he looked away sharply, and jerked back. Felix tossed the head of the lance down on the ground as he got up, realizing now what a mess they had made of the training room. Sylvain got up beside him; he looked around rather sheepishly.

“Noura’s going to kill us.”

Not turning to look at him, Felix walked over to the rack of axes, which was perfectly fine, and picked up his coat. “Speak for yourself,” said Felix, thinking of the older woman who was the head of his household staff. “She loves me.”

They made their way to Felix’s quarters in silence. On their way there Felix stopped one of the maids and asked her to have dinner sent up for him and Sylvain to his rooms. He could see the surprised look Sylvain shot him from the corner of his eye, but Felix ignored it.

Entering his quarters Felix stopped in his sitting room. He walked over to his favourite armchair and took a seat. Sylvain was still standing, clearly unsure, by the door. Felix sighed a little and gestured to the chair adjacent his, “Well?”

Sylvain sat, a little stiffly, like he was waiting for a trap to spring and he needed to be ready to leap away.

“Your father sent you to negotiate trade terms,” said Felix when Sylvain continued to remain silent. “So, let’s get this over with.”

There was an expression almost akin to hurt that crossed Sylvain’s face for just a moment, but then it was gone. Carefully, he said, “Felix, I also came to apologize.”

Felix’s first impulse was to be angry. He pushed out of his chair and began to make his way to his bedroom, regretting his decision to let them dine together. “I don’t want to hear it. If that is why you’re really here you can see yourself out.”

Sylvain’s footsteps let him know that he had followed Felix, and when he felt Sylvain’s hand on his arm, he yanked it back and whirled around to glare at him.

“I don’t need your apologies, Sylvain,” Felix said coolly.

He saw Sylvain flinch, and then press on determinedly. “Listen, Felix, I didn’t mean for – “

Felix gestured sharply with his hand, cutting Sylvain off. “I _know_ , Sylvain! You were drunk, I was there, and it could have been anyone. You think I don’t already know that? You’d like me to forget it happened? Fine. I’m not a fool, I know you – “

“Felix!” Sylvain looked genuinely upset, angry even, at Felix. What could _he_ possibly have to be angry over? “It’s not like that! I didn’t – It wasn’t because – “ Sylvain made a frustrated noise and pushed his bangs messily back with one hand. “I’m apologizing because I didn’t ask if it was what _you_ wanted, not because I wish to forget it happened!”

It took Felix a moment to properly process Sylvain’s words.

Felix hated having false hope, and the feeling that suddenly surged inside him, like a newly tapped wellspring, threatened to overwhelm him with the sheer force of it. Hope, like he had never felt before, not even during that night when Sylvain touched him. It was impossible to push it all down, even when Felix reminded himself of the realities of his relationship with Sylvain, of his own feelings, and of his obligations.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found he had no words to lash out with, nor hide behind. He was caught completely off guard.

“I shouldn’t have simply – “ Sylvain broke off, seemingly searching for the right way to finish that sentence. “Simply proceeded without asking. I practically forced myself on you, and I don’t know how to apologize for something like that, but I want to – need to.” Sylvain looked at him with pleading amber eyes. “Felix, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Taken aback, Felix didn’t stop to think before he said, “What exactly do you imagine happened?”

Obviously confused and surprised, Sylvain said. “What?”

Feeling that familiar sense of annoyance that was unique to Sylvain, Felix forced himself to say it, “I’m not some helpless damsel. I _chose_ not to fight you off.” He felt his face go red, but stared determinedly back at Sylvain.

He blinked in wide-eyed incredulity that looked almost like wonder. “You – You – “ Sylvain swallowed. “Oh.” He said, and then again in a small voice, “ _Oh_.”

Feeling uncomfortably warm now, Felix looked away. Sylvain had turned a light pink, and they stood there in awkward silence for a moment, both of them looking anywhere but at each other.

That sudden bloom of hope in Felix pushed more words out of him after a pause, “You said you didn’t wish to forget it.”

“I don’t,” said Sylvain almost at once.

There was another pause, the silence still rather uncomfortable. “But, it didn’t mean anything.” Felix said. It was meant to be a question, but it came out as a statement.

There was a pause. “Yes,” Sylvain agreed after a moment.

Felix nodded. He felt that one word like a blow to his heart, but this time it hadn’t been unanticipated. It did wonders to stem the flow of hope that had been flooding his body.

Fine. It was all fine. He looked at Sylvain. He could never have him, at least not the way he wanted. Felix forced himself to face that truth. His beautiful, irritating, smiling face was not something he would ever see as he fell asleep at night, nor would it be the first thing he saw in the morning. He felt his stomach clench. Sylvain was never going to be his, and he was a fool for allowing even the shadow of hope to live in him, this feeling in him now was all his own fault. Bitter regret, despair so sharp it felt as if it might break his heart clean in two.

He could not have Sylvain the way he wanted, but perhaps he could have this, for a time.

He walked over to Sylvain who eyed him warily. “If it means nothing, then why stop?”

Felix saw the surprise come into Sylvain’s face without an attempt to moderate his expression. Felix might be one of the only people who got to see Sylvain’s unfiltered emotions; he both loved and hated that fact.

He pushed Sylvain back, walking him until his feet hit the edge of the bed, and Sylvain sat hard, bouncing once, before, with all the boldness of heartbreak, Felix climbed into his lap. He wasn’t drunk at all, but this feeling of unabashed nerve was reminiscent of confidence bought by intoxication. Drunk on anguish.

Now Sylvain looked truly alarmed. “Felix, wait, what are you doing?” He had grabbed Felix’s hands, which had gone to the buckle at Sylvain’s waist.

Forcing himself to look him in the eye, Felix didn’t answer directly, “Tell me to stop.”

Sylvain’s expression was complicated. It looked for a moment like he really would, and if he did; Felix would have been rejected twice.

Sylvain didn’t reply, he let go of Felix’s hands, and instead began to unbuckle his own belt.

Felix followed suit, sitting up higher on Sylvain’s lap. They pushed their clothing away just enough to have undisturbed access, and then pressed themselves together. His breath shuddering at the heat, Felix dropped his head, pressing his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder, unable to do anything but _feel_ this. He thought he could remember vividly how good it had felt the first time, but he was wrong. Felix’s memories hadn’t done the sensation of touch justice; this feeling could only truly be experienced in the moment. Sylvain’s hand grasped his cock firmly, he dragged his fist down, and Felix’s breath caught.

Their hands moved together, both of them hard and leaking, Felix began to thrust his hips unthinkingly.

In the back of his mind there was a voice telling him that he would almost definitely regret this. But in the moment, with Sylvain solid and warm against him, that seemed utterly impossible. And, if he did regret it, it would be a fair exchange. Something that made him feel so good couldn’t possibly come without a price.

He felt Sylvain’s mouth on his neck, the press of lips, a hot lick of his tongue, and the sudden jolt at the scrap of teeth. Felix pushed him down, and Sylvain’s back hit the mattress with a soft _thump_.

They looked at each other. Sylvain’s eyes, his expression, his body, his touch, it was all too much. Felix closed his eyes and resumed his movements. This was the sweetest torture Felix had ever endured.

When the mounting pleasure became too much, Felix had to bite his lip to keep from speaking Sylvain’s name. In his head he said it over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer, or a plea. He made small noises he couldn’t seem to stop, and when climax hit he curled inward, just catching himself with his free hand, and stopping himself from falling directly onto Sylvain.

He heard Sylvain’s harsh breathing in his ear, and then his quiet voice. “Are you all right?” Sylvain's hand ran up his back soothingly.

“Yes,” he lied.

Felix pushed himself up, just enough to give himself room to reach back down and grasp Sylvain. He could tell that Sylvain was close, and when his breath caught, Felix reflexively lifted his head to look at him. His expression made Felix’s chest feel tight. He looked almost as if he were in pain, his brow furrowed, and skin flushed. Felix was going to remember this look for the rest of his life. When he married someone who was not Sylvain, and when Sylvain married someone who was not Felix, he would remember the way this felt, the way his heart threatened to burst with every beat that hurt so good.

Sylvain lifted his head, and Felix turned away. He felt lips brush his cheek. He closed his eyes, and let go of Sylvain. Getting back up, he didn’t bother explaining what he was doing as he slid down his bed and to the floor. He watched Sylvain half lift himself off the bed, looking at him in confusion. Felix pushed Sylvain’s knees apart, heard Sylvain say the first syllable of his name, and then took the tip of Sylvain’s cock into his mouth.

He came almost instantly. Gasping, Sylvain shook, his hand coming to grasp Felix’s hair loosely. Felix tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He let go, and coughed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Sylvain was breathing hard, he had fallen back onto the bed, and his hand fell limply when Felix pushed it off his head so he could get up.

Felix went to the bathroom attached to his bedroom and cleaned himself off, readjusting his trousers, and changing his shirt. He dampened a face towel and brought it back out. He found Sylvain lying almost exactly as he left him, he turned to look at Felix when he came back in, his breathing more even. Sylvain smiled tentatively at him, and Felix’s traitor heart skipped a beat.

Without a word, Felix held out the towel to him. Sylvain sat up and took it. He cleaned himself off in silence, and Felix stood there somewhat awkwardly. What was he meant to do now? Dalliances were decidedly not Felix’s expertise.

When Sylvain was done, his trousers laced and buckled back up, looking only remotely presentable; he looked over at Felix who had not moved from the side of the bed. Sylvain patted the space on the mattress beside him. After a moment of hesitation, Felix sat.

Neither of them spoke. And, after a long pause Sylvain sighed, he pushed his bangs up, and then scrubbed his hand down his face. He turned to face Felix who looked back at Sylvain sidelong.

“Is this what you want?”

Felix frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Sylvain gestured between them with one hand, and then indicated the room at large with the other. “This,” he said again. “Just – I don’t know. Keeping each other from being pent up? Is that what this is?”

That was all it could be.

“Yes,” Felix said. He looked away from Sylvain, and missed the way his somewhat calm expression wavered.

“I see.” There was another pause. And then he heard Sylvain sigh again. “Okay,” he said. Felix could see Sylvain nod in his periphery. “Okay,” he repeated. “Then – then tomorrow we can talk about the trade negotiations.”

There was a sudden knock on the door that made them both jump. Felix had completely forgotten he had asked for food to be sent up. He rose, answered the door, and brought the tray into the room. He carefully avoided Sylvain’s eye, still feeling too raw to look him head on. They ate in rather awkward silence.

Sylvain got up first when they were done. “I should return to my room.” He said, and Felix knew Sylvain didn’t need to ask which room was his; he’d had a designated room in the Fraldarius estate for years now. “Goodnight.”

When he left Felix put the tray aside. He had barely tasted anything he ate, and didn’t feel particularly hungry anyway. Getting ready for bed Felix began to recite passages he had memorized from his textbooks in his head. Climbing into his bed he closed his eyes. The bedding smelled of Sylvain.

Felix lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

Just what had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Strums guitar* Pininggggggggg~
> 
> I really love angst for these two. I'm usually not one to make characters suffer when I write them, but I think it's just the dynamic between these two that just begs for some heart ache. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 3! I'm currently working on two fics at the same time, which is not something I ever do unless I'm in events, but I guess there's a first time for everything? Basically updates might take a little while since I'm trying to balance them, but update I will!!! ^^


	4. A Favour

Maybe this won't last very long  
But you feel so right  
And I could be wrong  
Maybe I've been hoping too hard  
But I've gone this far  
And it's more than I hoped for

- _The Longest Time,_ Billy Joel

Sylvain woke the next morning convinced the night before had been an elaborate and vivid dream.

It would not be the first time Sylvain had illicit dreams about his childhood friend. But, when he got up, saw where he was, and felt the sting of a cut on his shoulder, evidence of the sword fight they had engaged in, Sylvain began to accept reality.

It was a strange feeling to know _this_ was his reality. He lived in a world where Felix had touched him very intimately, and in fact, had initiated the contact this time. He had also, without prompting or warning, taken Sylvain’s cock into his mouth. Sylvain couldn’t even look that memory in the eye; just the thought of it was almost too much.

Sylvain was having a hard time putting a name to the emotions roiling inside of him. Was it happiness he was feeling? His heart felt bright, like it was full of sunlight, but that didn’t dispel the sense of unease he felt. He felt almost like a child playing outdoors all the while ignoring the chores his parents had explicitly instructed he finish that day. A looming sense of dread about something he was deliberately ignoring, but it was hard to think about possible future pain when in the moment he had something he had never known he wanted so badly. Now that he held it in his hand, Sylvain couldn’t think about letting it go.

This thing with Felix was like playing with fire. Sylvain was used to being burned, but he did worry he might hurt his friend. Sylvain was the older one, he should be looking out for Felix, and even though he realized there would most certainly be consequences for their reckless actions, he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for it. Maybe he could make it so he alone walked into the flames when the time came.

Of course, the best thing for Sylvain to do would be to take some time to parse out his own feelings. Take a moment to be truly honest with himself, but if Sylvain were the type of person to do something like that he would most likely not be in this situation in the first place. So, instead, Sylvain simply got dressed for another day as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Arriving at breakfast, he found that Felix was of a similar mind. He gave absolutely no outward sign that anything had happened between them. He wasn’t even particularly grumpy with Sylvain the way he had been yesterday. There was a moment during their fight the day before where Sylvain had seriously thought Felix might kill him. When he held the lance tip at Sylvain’s throat, he had felt Felix’s desire to press it in; he had felt the danger of the moment, like cornering a wild animal. The look in Felix’s eyes then, it was both threatening, and thrilling. Sylvain remembered the way his heart pounded, partly from exertion, but mostly because of that look. Because _Sylvain_ was the one being cornered, and he had no desire to free himself.

Now, Felix was no surlier than was normal for him.

Sylvain smiled a little wryly to himself, maybe Felix really had just been pent up, and now, relaxed, he was back to normal.

“What are you smirking at?”

“I’m not smirking,” Sylvain said. “Nothing.”

Felix gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him, but didn’t pry. Instead he asked, “Do you have any other obligations you need to see to before you leave?”

“Apart from fetching my father’s favourite jam, at his request, it’s just the trade agreement,” Sylvain said around a mouthful of bread.

“Then, you won’t mind lending me some assistance.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re asking for my help?” He smiled, “I like this colour on you.”

Felix rolled his eyes.

It turned out the help Felix needed was with horses. Sylvain had hoped he might ask him for tips on wielding a lance. Though, his life might have been in danger again in that scenario, but then he would have had the perfect excuse to put his arms around Felix to demonstrate proper grip and stance. And, Sylvain really never passed up an opportunity to show off if he could help it.

Alas.

Instead, Sylvain got to roll up his sleeves and take a good look at Felix’s very pregnant horse.

Ingrid was really the best out of the four of them with horses, Dimitri was probably also better than Sylvain, but between the two of them, Felix and Sylvain, Sylvain was definitely the one who knew more. He had often helped out in the stables during their time at the academy, and had cared for his own horses during the war when there was quite literally no one else to do it for him.

Sylvain knew this horse too, a young mare, the colour of jet, who Felix had named Isadora and affectionately called Izzy for short. Sylvain had picked her out for Felix two years ago for his birthday. She was, like her master, stubborn and strong, which was probably why they had taken to each other right away.

Right now Sylvain was trying to coax her into staying still so he could feel her stomach.

“Are you going to help me?” Sylvain asked, when Izzy edged away from Sylvain’s touch once more, snorting lightly.

Unlike Sylvain, Felix wasn’t inside Izzy’s stall. He was leaning on the door outside of her stall; he leaned his elbow along the edge of the door, and rested his chin in his hand. He looked quite at his leisure, observing Sylvain with obvious amusement.

“No.” Felix said.

Sylvain shot him a glare, and Izzy shifted uneasily.

“Shhh,” Sylvain tried to sooth the horse, “It’s all right, we don’t need him anyway, isn’t that right? Come now, my lady, there’s no need to fret; it’s not my first time. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Felix snorted, and Sylvain shot him another glare.

While he tried to get Izzy to stay still she made him shuffle around the stall. Eventually he managed to get close enough to stroke her long nose, but when he suddenly whipped around to smirk smugly at Felix, she startled, bumping him back so that Sylvain fell against one of the stable walls, knocking a bucket full of apple peels over onto himself. Izzy came back then, and began gently nibbling at the peels.

This time Sylvain turned at the sound of Felix’s laughter. It reminded him of when they were children, the laugh was bright and carefree, Felix’s eyes were closed, and his expression shown with mirth. Sylvain’s heart, still full of sunlight, felt as if it were shining. He found he was smiling too.

When the laughter subsided, Felix finally came into the stall. Izzy allowed him to gently push her off Sylvain, and stroke her soft nose. Sylvain got up, only making a token effort to clean himself off, there was no point in attempting to conserve any dignity, there was no need for it between them at this point. Sylvain simply got up and went to Izzy who didn’t protest at all when he carefully put his hands on her stomach.

“The foal is rather big,” Sylvain said after a moment of careful prodding and feeling around. “But, it seems like they’re in a good position, the birth should be fine, Izzy’s a strong one anyway.” Felix nodded; he was still petting her head. “If it was so easy for you to gentle her, why didn’t you do it sooner?”

The corner of Felix’s mouth turned up. “I just wanted to watch you struggle for once.”

The look on Sylvain’s face made Felix laugh again.

The rest of Sylvain’s stay was perfectly normal. They trained together, Felix attended to his duties, and when he was free they went over the trade agreement over dinner. It seemed as if nothing had really changed between them.

Well, almost nothing. Now all their arguments seemed to culminate in sex.

“What? That’s your proposal? You must be joking!”

“The only joke here is you.”

“Hey! Take that back! And, anyway, that’s pretty rich coming from someone who let themselves be conned by a little girl!”

“I _chose_ to chop that firewood!”

They were in Felix’s quarters once again. This time they were in his sitting room, they sat facing each other on a couch by the fire, as they argued they moved unconsciously closer together, so that now they were practically nose to nose. Sylvain stared into brown eyes that seemed to glow by the firelight. He leaned in, and Felix turned his face away.

He had never outright said it, but it had become very obvious that Felix didn’t want to kiss him. Sylvain pushed down the hurt that bloomed in his heart; it was surprisingly easy for him to shut it out, and to shut out _why_ it hurt him. Possibly one day the door in Sylvain’s heart that he thrust all these emotions through would simply burst open despite his best efforts, but for now that was a problem for the future. Sylvain only smiled, and angled his head to kiss Felix’s jaw instead.

He put his hand high on Felix’s thigh and asked, voice low, “Is this okay?”

Felix still wasn’t looking at him. He nodded.

It made something in his chest tighten. Well, there could be no mistaking what this relationship was. Not that Sylvain had ever really thought it was anything else, nor had he hoped for it either. Felix had already made it clear, so there was no reason for him to feel as if he had missed a step climbing down a staircase.

“Then, can I return the favour?”

Now Felix turned to look at him. “What?”

“The night I arrived here,” Sylvain explained, taking care to keep eye contact. “You used your mouth.”

Felix turned a lovely red, and looked away. His skin was so fair, the colour was striking on him, it was delightful, and Sylvain would never get tired of seeing that reaction. Felix nodded again, avoiding Sylvain’s gaze. He was shy, Sylvain realized.

It was completely idiotic of Sylvain to feel pleased by this knowledge, but he was. His heart glowed, and his stomach felt full of something warm. Forgetting the slight from just a moment ago, Sylvain revelled in this feeling.

Sylvain got up and went to kneel between Felix’s legs. He unbuckled Felix’s belt, and pulled his shirt up just enough to expose his taunt abdomen. Sylvain leaned in to kiss him lightly, feeling muscle clench under his mouth, and smiled when Felix made a small noise of surprise. Then he opened Felix’s trousers just enough for his purposes.

Sylvain had never done this before. He had, on occasion, been on the receiving end, but none of his partners until now had had the anatomy for him to have any practice reciprocating. So, he started slow.

Felix’s reaction was immediate and enthusiastic. His hips jerked up, his hands gripped Sylvain’s shoulders, and he gasped loudly. It made Sylvain feel suddenly very hot. It had occurred to him some time after their first encounter, but Sylvain was almost definitely Felix’s first sexual partner.

He swirled his tongue around the tip and then sucked gently on the head. He could tell Felix was trying to rein in his reactions again; the very first gasp had been completely involuntary then, and for some reason that made Sylvain ridiculously smug. Careful of his teeth, he slid his mouth down just a little more. Felix’s breath was coming in more quickly, and his hands were clenched tightly in the fabric of Sylvain’s shirt.

This act was often referred to in degrading or derogatory terms, most especially for the person performing it, but in that moment Sylvain had no idea why. There was a very special kind of pleasure derived from making a partner feel good, and the way Felix was reacting to him was not only incredibly encouraging, but it was also exceedingly arousing. It was so clear that Felix was losing himself in sensation, in want, and desire, that it felt not as if they were on uneven footing, but that rather they were on equal ground. An act of service that felt more like an even exchange.

Sylvain took Felix deeper into his mouth, and reached down to touch him as well. Felix made a high-pitched sound that was almost like a whimper. Felix’s hand was in Sylvain’s hair now, and Sylvain didn’t register it in the moment, but his touch was gentle, and he didn’t pull or push on Sylvain as another lover might.

He felt Felix’s body begin to tense. “I – _I_ – “ Felix began, and broke off making a small choked sound as he came, his body curling in.

Felix almost never spoke during their encounters, but Sylvain could almost feel the way words crowded in his mouth every time, because they were there just behind Sylvain’s own lips as well. It was a battle each time to keep them in check. He was both intensely curious, and terrified to know what either of them might say in the heat of the moment.

Though he made a valiant effort, Sylvain couldn’t manage to swallow. He choked a little, coughing as he pulled away, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The aftertaste was bitter, but the moment he saw Felix’s face he found he didn’t care, it was worth it.

Felix was flushed beautifully, his expression was one almost of awe, and when he looked at Sylvain, it was with the heat of a low burning fire, threatening to erupt into flame once more at the slightest provocation. Sylvain had never felt himself quite so vulnerable as he was in that moment, he was frozen, trapped in Felix’s gaze, and very sure he was going to let Felix do what ever he wanted. That gaze was reminiscent of the way Felix had looked at him during their fight, but this time it wasn’t death Felix threatened, he looked as if he might devour Sylvain, and Sylvain was ready to simply bare his neck, and let him.

*

Sylvain tried not to show how much he didn’t want to leave when the time came. He had already been there for ten days, and had stretched out negotiations as long as he could. The trade agreement had been written up, and read over a handful of times already, Felix would not budge anymore on any point, and really Sylvain didn’t need to keep fighting him on it, he had a deal he was satisfied with, he simply wanted an excuse to rewrite it.

But, copies of it had been made, all that was left was for Sylvain to sign it, Felix had done so just last night. Sylvain could remember exactly what he looked like then, the tie in his hair had slipped down, and strands of black hair framed Felix’s flushed face. He was still breathing unevenly, and not quite managing to look cool and unaffected, as he had sat up in bed to sign the papers sitting on his bedside table, his shirt untucked and his trousers still open. Sylvain had laughed then, quietly, and when Felix turned to shoot him a look, Sylvain had pulled Felix back down, pinning him beneath his body, and finding it was surprisingly easy to stir Felix up again.

It was midday, and Sylvain lay on his back in his bed, quietly reliving the night before, while also trying to think of a reason to stay longer. The thought of leaving and not seeing Felix again for who knew how long was torturous.

Sylvain groaned and covered his face with his hands. He hadn’t felt so much dread to return home since his brother had died. It had been little more than a week, but Sylvain was virtually addicted to the feel of Felix’s body, to the sounds he made, the way he touched Sylvain, his expressions, his heat, his taste. Sylvain groaned again. How could he be expected to simply leave?

That day Sylvain did not see Felix at all. It was his last day in Fraldarius and Felix had appointments and meetings the entire day. Sylvain had a suspicion Felix had done it on purpose, so he would not have to bid Sylvain farewell, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

So, Sylvain spent the day idly. He talked to Felix’s arms smith, his regular sparring partners, his soldiers, and even sparred a little himself. Sylvain had grown up with many of the young soldiers who now served Felix as their parents had served his father. He knew the household staff, he could charm anything he wanted from the cooks, and everyone smiled at him, laughed at his jokes, and seemed to enjoy his company. It was a perfectly lovely day.

Sylvain dined with Felix’s soldiers in the mess hall, which he also found very pleasant.

“Is something wrong, my Lord?”

Sylvain blinked and turned to the young woman sitting on his left. “Pardon?”

She smiled slightly at him, and Sylvain couldn’t seem to remember whether or not they had already been introduced. “I asked if anything was wrong. You’ve been sighing all throughout dinner, my Lord.”

“Oh,” said Sylvain, who had not noticed. “Nothing. Just a little homesick, I suppose.”

“Well, my Lord, it’s fortunate you’ll be returning soon then.” She said, and then paused before adding, “Perhaps we could have a drink together to take your mind off it?”

“No, thank you.” Sylvain said, not even pausing to pretend to consider her offer. Hastily he added, when he saw her face fall, “I have an early day tomorrow. I may fall from my horse if I don’t manage enough sleep.”

After that Sylvain was forced to retreat to his rooms. He returned to pack his things, dragging out the process, but at last there was nothing left to do but to go to sleep.

He had thought briefly of going to Felix’s rooms later, when he knew Felix would be there, but since he suspected Felix was intentionally avoiding him, he decided against it. Partly to give Felix his space, and partly because he had absolutely no desire to be rejected to his face.

It took some time for sleep to come, and so when he was suddenly woken just as he had been falling asleep, Sylvain was more than a little disoriented. He had a thought he might actually be dreaming, because what had woken him was Felix.

Felix stood by the head of Sylvain’s bed, leaning slightly over him, and then straightening when Sylvain blinked at him in confusion. He had left the curtains open, preferring to let the room be illuminated by moonlight, so it was through that silvery glow that he saw Felix. When his eyes adjusted Sylvain took a second to appreciate the way Felix’s pale skin seemed to shine in the white light.

“I need you to come with me,” Felix said, his voice not quite hushed, but not at his normal volume. Sylvain was having a hard time understanding what was happening.

He sat up and shook his head, trying to think clearly. “Felix, what the hell are you doing?”

Felix made a noise of impatience and tugged at Sylvain’s arm, “Hurry up.”

Completely forgetting that he was accustomed to sleeping nude, Sylvain simply got out of bed. There was a pause when they both noticed this fact and simply looked at each other. Sylvain watched as Felix, seemingly unable to stop himself, ran his gaze down.

It was just a second, and then Felix turned abruptly, tossing over his shoulder as he walked out of Sylvain’s room, “Get dressed and meet me in the stables.”

Sylvain stood there for another moment staring after Felix. He wished the lighting were better so he could properly look at Felix’s face, and at the same time he was glad it was still fairly dim in his room. His own face felt very hot.

Sylvain got dressed quickly; tossing on whatever was still clean, throwing on a warm cloak over his clothing, and then hurrying down to the stables. There he found Felix waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” Felix said by way of greeting, acting as if he had not had to drag his eyes from Sylvain’s naked form only moments ago. He was holding a lantern out in front of him, and turned as soon as Sylvain reached him, obviously expecting Sylvain to follow him as he walked into the stables.

Not a little annoyed and confused Sylvain asked again, “Felix, what’s going on? Why are we here?”

Felix didn’t answer, just led him to the stable where Izzy was housed. She lay on her side, and as Sylvain watched, rolled from side to side, snorting gently. He looked at Felix, who looked back at him, and Sylvain realized he was worried.

“She’s been restless all day,” Felix explained. “That’s supposed to be a sign of labour. I had one of the stable boys keep an eye on her, his father usually tends to the horses, but he left a day ago to visit family. I didn’t know whom else to ask.”

Sylvain had the sudden urge to hug him. He was reminded very forcefully of young Felix, coming to him whenever he needed help, trusting Sylvain would and could help him. He looked back over at Izzy, and noted the way her coat seemed to gleam with sweat.

“Help settle her,” he said, opening the stall door. “I think you’re right, it’s labour.”

Felix did as he was bid, and Sylvain began carefully wrapping Izzy’s tail with a special cloth meant to pull the tail back to make it easier for anyone assisting a mare with birth.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Sylvain asked when he was done. They were standing outside the gate again to give Izzy her space. There was still a wait, as her water had not yet broken.

Felix had hung the lantern on a hook over the gate, when he turned his face was mostly in shadow. “I was - scared,” Felix admitted quietly. “If anything happened to Izzy – I didn’t think to have another horse master come when mine was absent, foolish when I knew Izzy was close to giving birth.” He paused, and turned to look at her, “She was a gift from you, I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care for her.”

“Of course I wouldn’t think that,” Sylvain replied, fighting the urge to put his arms around Felix. “I thought I was supposed to be the foolish one.”

“You are.”

“Hey,” Sylvain bumped Felix with his shoulder. “Is that what you say to someone who’s trying to help you?”

There was a slight pause, Felix looked down at his arms resting on the gate, “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Felix could be something of a brat, Sylvain thought, but for some reason, instead of finding it annoying, mostly he found it very endearing. He smiled, and caught Felix’s gaze for just a moment when his friend glanced up at him, he looked away again quickly. Sylvain’s smile widened.

Not long after that Izzy’s water broke. Both young men started, they exchanged a look, and then Sylvain began to take off his cloak. He hung it up in the empty stall next to Izzy’s and went into her stall.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to make sure the foal is positioned properly. Bring the lantern, I need to be able to see.” Sylvain explained as he rolled up his sleeves. He had assisted with a birth exactly once before in the academy, and that had been with Ingrid’s help. In his mind he could see her serious expression as she explained to him the complexities of birthing in horses. Sylvain had been much more squeamish back then than he was now. Although, he still hesitated, trying to brace himself before he walked around Izzy, “Forgive me, my Lady,” he said under his breath.

He instructed Felix to stand on the other side of Izzy, and tried to look behind her tail. He couldn’t see much, and, remembering Ingrid’s instructions, carefully put a hand in. Felix made a small noise of surprise, and Sylvain winced a little, but he continued to gently prod. Ingrid had made him do this last time too, so he knew what a normal birth would feel like, and after a moment he realized something was wrong. He should be able to feel two front hooves as well as the head, but he felt only one hoof. Frowning, he took another moment to carefully search.

“What?” Felix asked, accurately reading his expression. “What’s wrong?”

Sylvain withdrew his hand. “One of the legs is folded, she can’t give birth like this. I have to straighten out the leg.”

“Have you done that before?” Felix asked, none of his normal sarcasm or attitude present in his voice. He was simply earnest, and genuinely concerned.

“No,” Sylvain admitted. “But, Ingrid explained how I should do it. Could you bring more hay? Lots of it, we’ll need it for the foal.”

Felix nodded, still uncharacteristically obedient. He hung the lantern on a hook just behind Sylvain, and Sylvain tried to calm his nerves.

It had been some time since Ingrid had explained how he should do this. And, he had never practiced before. Sylvain wished very much he had helped with more births, though, if he were really wishing for things he wished it were Ingrid here doing this instead of him. There was no way any horse could come to harm under her care.

_“Aw, come on, Ingrid! We’ve been here for hours already, why do I even need to know this much about horses? I’m only riding them, I won’t be starting a farm.”_

_Ingrid gave him a stern look; she put her hands on her hips in a way that was very familiar to him. “Why? Sylvain, the horse you ride into battle isn’t like your lance! It’s not just a tool, it’s a sentient being, and if your lance relies on you for care, how much more will your horse need you to care for it? If there’s a war you won’t always be able to count on others, you’ll have to do what you can yourself.”_

Sylvain exhaled deeply. Unfortunately Ingrid had been right, there really was no one else to help him. He prayed to the goddess he remembered what he had been taught correctly.

Putting his hand carefully in again, he gently felt around for the other front leg. Izzy snorted and flicked her tail when his arm went further in, but she didn’t try to move. Sylvain found the folded leg after a moment, and feeling his stomach fill with nerves, he began carefully extending it. He closed his eyes, and tried to remember Ingrid’s instructions word for word.

_“It’s important to follow the steps exactly,” Ingrid warned, “You could seriously hurt the foal otherwise.”_

“Sylvain.”

Felix’s voice in the present made him pause; he opened his eyes and found Felix standing by the gate, carrying a pile of hay. “Don’t second guess yourself so much. I trust you.”

Hearing that was both encouraging and a little nerve wrecking. Sylvain swallowed, and then nodded. He closed his eyes again and kept going. He had to extend the leg by gently turning it, and then extending it through the birth canal along with the other leg, and head. He was slow and careful, and while he worked he was only partly aware of Felix coming in and out of the stall with more hay.

Finally, the leg was straightened out. Sylvain opened his eyes and stepped back. He patted Izzy’s side gently and said, “Go on, my Lady, it’s all right now.”

With Felix’s help they coaxed her into lying down on her side, and then the birth was over quickly. Since Izzy was on her side, the foal was born on their side as well. Felix and Sylvain were standing outside the gate once more to give Izzy space, and watched as her progeny was born.

Unlike Izzy, her foal was not pure black, their head and back were dark as jet, but their legs and belly were an almost chestnut colour. Both young men watched silently as the foal began to attempt to stand. Izzy had gotten up almost right away, and she turned now to her foal as they attempted to stand. It took some time for the foal to do it, Izzy prodded them encouragingly with her nose now and again as the foal rose part way and then fell again.

Finally, still shaky, the foal stood. Sylvain and Felix exchanged an excited, proud smile.

Felix had fetched Sylvain a blanket and a bucket of cold water for him to clean his arm off with, and though he still smelled rather unpleasantly, they both ignored it as they continued to observe mother and child. Thankfully the foal began to nurse soon after standing, but it was important to monitor the foal’s health just after birth, which Sylvain explained to Felix.

“I’ll stay until morning, when the stable boy comes to tend his duties. When will his father be back?” Sylvain asked, moving back into the stable and walking over to a relatively clean pile of hay to sit on.

“Tomorrow,” Felix replied, following him in after he pulled a blanket off a small shelf on the wall. He shook it out thoroughly before sitting next to Sylvain and wordlessly offering him one side of the blanket. In all the excitement of the birth Sylvain hadn’t really noticed the cold, but he was starting to.

Sylvain took it automatically, watching as Felix made himself comfortable, and obviously avoided Sylvain’s gaze. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Neither do you.”

Sylvain smiled a little at that, “Maybe you should sit on the other side of the stall though.”

“Why?”

“You smell like horse.”

Felix hit him rather hard on the shoulder as Sylvain, wincing, laughed under his breath.

They passed the night chatting idly. Or more accurately, Sylvain chatted idly and Felix, now without the pressing worry of Izzy’s foal’s birth, was more like himself, which was to say dry and a bit sharp. But, Sylvain, who was more than used to Felix, found his edges smoother, he had become fond of all the ways Felix jabbed at him, as if he were a particularly adorable porcupine.

At some point throughout the night they had begun leaning on each other, and by the time the sky began to lighten, Felix’s head was resting on Sylvain’s shoulder, and Sylvain’s cheek was pressed to Felix’s hair. They were quiet now, and Sylvain thought Felix might be asleep. But, when the boy who tended their horses showed up bringing word that his father would be along shortly, Felix lifted his head, and showed no signs of having slept at all.

“You could have called me to watch Izzy, Your Grace,” the boy said, clearly anxious to think his lord had spent the night in the stables.

Felix let the boy take the blanket they had been using and waved the comment away. “It’s fine. Sylvain volunteered to help anyway.”

“Did I?” Sylvain looked up from brushing hay off his legs. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“I recall you saying you were always available to help a lady in distress.”

“I thought you were the one in distress, actually.”

Felix gave him a look that was none too friendly, and Sylvain caught the stable boy’s eye. He smiled at him, and the boy smiled tentatively back.

“I can watch Izzy and her foal now, my Lords,” the boy said, obviously trying to interrupt their bickering.

“Yes, please,” said Sylvain, gratefully. “I’m in desperate need of a bath.”

“Let me know when your father gets here, I’d like to speak with him.” Said Felix, pulling a piece of straw from his long hair.

“Yes, my Lord.”

With that Sylvain and Felix made their way back inside. The sun had not come up yet, and torches still burned in the corridors to light their way. Sylvain thought about his upcoming travel with growing dread.

They were close to their rooms now, and Sylvain groaned thinking about simply bathing and then getting ready to leave.

Felix shot him a look, and then turned back to face forward. “What?” He asked.

“I have to leave soon.” Sylvain said it petulantly, like a child begrudging his chores.

There was a beat of silence as they continued to walk. They reached Sylvain’s door first. He turned to smile at Felix; he was going to do his best to bid him farewell in a normal manner, though in this moment he couldn’t quite remember what their “normal” had been.

“Well, I suppose I’ll say my goodbyes – “ He began when Felix interrupted him.

“Stay,” Felix blurted. And then, very quietly. “You should stay, at least for another day. You need to sleep, and there’s no real reason you need to depart today.” He wasn’t looking at Sylvain; his gaze was fixed on a spot somewhere to Sylvain’s right. Sylvain looked at him in surprise, and obviously took too long to reply, because Felix took a step back and began to turn. “Never mind,” he said abruptly. “Leave. Do whatever you like.”

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay!”

Felix paused midstep. He didn’t turn back to look at Sylvain, but he did turn his head slightly. “Okay,” he said quietly, and then left.

Sylvain watched him enter his quarters, and stood in the corridor until a maid came to put out the torches, the sun was rising.

He went into his chambers, and undressed on his way to the bathroom. The water was clean, but cold. Sylvain ignored the chill of the water, though he hardly noticed it anyway. Felix had asked him to stay. He felt his heart glow in a way that was becoming very familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! It'll definitely happen again, but I'll be slowly making my way through this fic for sure!!! Thanks so much for reading!!! <3
> 
> Also, full disclosure, I know zero about horses, I googled all that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Gautier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments last chapter were like, "It's been so long, I forgot this existed." So, from the bottom of my heart: my bad. 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 5!

I know that you hate this place  
Not a trace of me would argue  
Honey, we should run away, oh someday

- _To Be Alone_ , Hozier

“Welcome home, my Lord.”

“Thank you.”

To say that Sylvain was not glad to be back would be an understatement. All told he had spent fourteen days in Fraldarius before grudgingly admitting that it was time he left. Felix had disappeared when it was time for Sylvain to leave, and even knowing he wouldn’t come to say goodbye Sylvain had stalled. He had ridden back to the Margravate of Gautier trying to pick up his own spirits, but he had still arrived at his estate in a sullen mood.

The first thing he did was go and report to his father, who commented he thought Sylvain would come back with not just the best trade deal Gautier had ever seen, but most of Fraldarius’s wealth too with the amount of time he had spent there. Sylvain said nothing, and his father dubbed the agreement as acceptable. He didn’t welcome his son back, but told him he had left some things for Sylvain to review on his desk.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me father.” Sylvain said, bowing slightly, and was met with the usual vague wave of his father’s hand as dismissal. Sylvain clenched his jaw and left without another word.

He wanted very desperately to saddle his horse once more and go back. Met with the cool indifference of his father, he missed the warmth Felix couldn’t seem to conceal. While Felix too could be aloof, there was a softer side to him he had recently being showing more and more often. His silences were companionable, and even when he ignored Sylvain, the feeling behind it was different, whether Felix was annoyed, or glad to see him, there was emotion behind his actions, with Sylvain’s father there was nothing at all.

He sighed and made his way slowly back to his own quarters. There he unpacked his things unhurriedly, as reluctantly as he had packed them up back in Fraldarius. When he pulled out one of his shirts, something spilled out from its folds. Surprised, Sylvain stared at his feet where the things had fallen; he blinked at them for a moment as his mind processed what he was seeing. It was candy, the kind Sylvain had all the time as a child, and which Felix no longer had a taste for.

Carelessly tossing his shirt aside he bent to pick up the candies. They were wrapped in colourful soft paper, a small handful of them. He opened one and put it in his mouth, sweet and tart, the flavour of cherry. Sylvain smiled slowly as he remembered all the times Felix had gone to the trouble of finding him in the academy just to give him some candy Felix didn’t want. He went to his wardrobe and withdrew a small cloth bag and put the candies in there, then stored them in the drawer of his bedside table. Sylvain decided he was going to save these for when he really needed them.

Feeling a bit better, Sylvain unpacked with more energy, but no other surprise gifts spilled from his belongings. What Sylvain did find as he continued to put his things away, was a simple jade hair clasp. Taking it out from the corner of a dresser drawer he had forgotten it in, Sylvain ran his fingers over it. It had been his mother’s, or so Sylvain had been told. Portraits of her showed her to have had hair so fair it had almost appeared white; this soft green clasp would have looked striking against that colour. Sylvain felt the smooth cool edge of the stone and thought; it would probably look just as good against dark hair. He took the clasp and put it in the same pouch as the candies, this time he wouldn’t forget about it.

From these pleasant discoveries, Sylvain went to see what his father had left him in his study; he wished he had done things in the opposite order because his stomach dropped at the sight of what he had been left. In addition to the regular reports and correspondence it was his duty to attend to, he had also been left folders containing information on potential marriage prospects.

His feelings of unease turned steadily to confusion and then aversion. The girls his father had selected were just that, girls. The oldest one here had only just turned seventeen. Sylvain was not exactly old at twenty-five, but he had absolutely no intention of marrying a child. He flipped through the small cameos each of them provided, small bust paintings, and noted that all of them still had the soft round faces of childhood. What in the world had his father been thinking when he had selected these girls? More than the anger of having his choice of potential partner taken from him was the anger and indignation of being presented with children as his only options, both of their behalf and for his own sake.

Sylvain took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, attempting to cool himself off. He would speak to his father. Either his engagement to anyone lasted until the girl in question turned at least twenty, or he needed new prospects. Righteous indignation mixed with nerves in his stomach, he hated confrontation, most especially with his father, but Sylvain was not a little boy anymore, and if he ever needed to put his foot down, it was for this.

The candy had dissolved in his mouth by the time he was back at his father’s door, but the flavour lingered, and he tried to think about the way Felix must have looked surreptitiously stowing the sweets into Sylvain’s hastily packed shirt.

“Come in,” his father called.

Sylvain took another breath, clutching the folder in both hands; he made his way into his father’s chambers.

“Yes?” His father asked, glancing up briefly, working at his desk as usual.

“I looked through the folder, father.”

“And?” Margrave prompted when Sylvain paused. “Selected one already?” Margrave laughed a little, as if he had said anything remotely funny.

“No, father,” Sylvain replied stiffly. “I came to inform you that I’m rejecting all these _girls_.”

His father finally looked up at that. He gave Sylvain a hard look and even set down his quill.

“If you think you can talk your way out of marrying – “ He began.

Sylvain shook his head and steeled his resolve. Flatly he said, “No, father, you’ve made it clear that I cannot.” His father’s expression remained hard, but he waited for Sylvain to continue. “I’m saying that all these girls are too young, the oldest is only just seventeen. I’ve come to tell you I won’t marry anyone under twenty. The only children I want to deal with are the ones born to me.”

Margrave raised his eyebrows at that last. Sylvain thought he looked mildly impressed, as if Sylvain were a dog that had learned a particularly complex command. He hated that he knew only this kind of selfish reason would strike a cord with his father.

“You’ve come here to _tell_ me, have you?” Margrave said, leaning back in his seat. Sylvain felt nerves flutter in his stomach, but he tried to ignore them. Margrave regarded him again for another moment, and Sylvain tried not to fidget under his stare. “Very well.” He said at last, picking up his quill once more. “But, you will meet with one of the _girls_ ,” he looked amused as he said it. “Lea Huber, the daughter of a rich merchant family. They will be visiting for a few days; her father was hoping she would catch your eye. Her family is said to be distantly related to the Gaspard, if you had played your cards right you could have made a claim to the territory of Gaspard.”

“Ashe Ubert is Lord there.”

Margrave waved his hand once as if swatting a fly. “A commoner.” Sylvain clenched his jaw hard. “It was an idle thought. Whether it’s Lea or some other woman, it doesn’t matter; she need only be rich and passably well connected. There are always merchants willing to trade their daughters for titles, I’m sure one will catch your eye.”

It seemed impossible that Margrave didn’t hear the way his own words sounded, but he said them casually, as if they were inoffensive and indisputable fact, as if he were merely pointing out the colour of the drapes. Sylvain made himself relax his grip on the folder and placed it on his father’s desk.

“If that’s all, you may go.” His father said, returning once more to the papers on his desk.

Sylvain bowed, and made his way out.

Talking with his father was like entering a brawl where all he was allowed to do was block. He couldn’t dodge the attacks, and he couldn’t hit back, all he could do was put his arms up, and do his best to protect his vitals.

He had won a very small victory today, though after everything his father had said, it hardly felt as though he had won anything at all.

The Huber family arrived three weeks later. Since he had come back Sylvain had been in a mood he couldn’t seem to shake. It was like a mix of melancholy and annoyance. One moment he was irritated, and the next he was unhappy, for seemingly no real reason. The household staff began to speculate about whether or not Sylvain had finally been betrothed, since surely only something of that nature would affect Sylvain this way.

Sylvain himself found he spent more and more time out in the stables, and thinking up excuses to make a trip south, anywhere really, as long as it gave him a reason to go through Fraldarius.

Shortly after the Huber’s arrival, Gautier had another visitor.

“Sylvain!”

He turned at the sound of his name, and smiled widely. It wasn’t the childhood friend he had just been thinking of, but it was someone he cherished very much.

“Ingrid!”

His friend jumped easily off her horse, handing the reins to one of the stable boys, and ran over to him. He caught her up in a strong embrace as they both laughed. They had never been the type of friends to embrace in greeting, but, as they got older, and the less they saw of each other, the easier it was for them to be those friends.

“Did I know you were coming?” Sylvain asked as he let go and stepped back to look at her.

Ingrid was smiling, “Oh, no, I’m on my way to the boarder, but I thought I would make a stop here to see you.”

Surprised, Sylvain said, “Just to see me?”

She laughed, “Well, no,” Ingrid admitted. “I wanted to speak to your father, but I also wanted to see you if I could.”

Sylvain laughed too. “I appreciate the thought,” he said. “How long will you be staying?”

“I thought I’d leave by tomorrow afternoon.”

“So quickly?”

Ingrid smiled gently this time, most likely in response to the tone in Sylvain’s voice. “Yes, I really can’t stay long.”

Sylvain tried to hide his disappointment. Ingrid’s was the only friendly face Sylvain had seen since he’d left Fraldarius, he’d certainly take her company over his father’s any day.

“Will you be free for lunch?”

Sylvain opened his mouth to say, ‘Yes!’ and then remembered he had promised to dine with Lea. “No,” Sylvain said with all the disappointment he felt.

Clearly noticing his tone, Ingrid asked, “Is something troubling you?”

Before he could answer however one of his father’s attendants came. “Lady Ingrid, we didn’t know you’d be visiting us. Did you have business with my Lord?”

“Yes, if he has some time to speak with me.”

“Of course. You may join him for lunch, if that’s agreeable.”

“Yes, thank you.” Ingrid turned to Sylvain and smiled apologetically. “What about after dinner? We can speak more easily then.”

Sylvain nodded, “I’ll meet you out here.” He watched as Ingrid was led away and sighed. After a moment of simply staring after her, Sylvain went in himself; he needed to change for his lunch date.

Lea didn’t look sixteen in person; she looked approximately two or three years younger. She reminded Sylvain a little of Annette, she was bright and childish, and had one of those faces that would probably always remain youthful. She was perfectly nice, but Sylvain felt their nine-year age difference.

He had a feeling too that she wouldn’t have appealed to him regardless of her age. No woman did, none of them had the dark brown eyes he dreamt of, or hair the colour of a starless sky. None of them smelled like steel and sawdust, and none of them made him feel as if the sun itself sat in his chest warming him from the inside out.

“Are you well, my Lord?”

Sylvain blinked. He paused with the teacup at his lips. He set it down and made himself focus his attention on the young woman in front of him.

“Yes, I’m very well, thank you.” Sylvain answered, making a passable approximation at his usual winning smile. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

Lea looked at him as if she didn’t completely believe him, but seemed to choose not to comment on his absentmindedness. “I was asking if you enjoyed sweets, my Lord.”

“Oh, yes, I – “ He thought of the candies that sat waiting for him in his drawer, and smiled fondly. “Yes, I love them.”

After lunch, with his obligation fulfilled Sylvain spent the rest of the day seeing to his various other duties. Dinner he spent with the Huber family, who seemed as if they had not given up hope of having Sylvain as a son-in-law. They worked to court his favour with compliments and completely undivided attention. Sylvain couldn’t wait to inform them in no uncertain terms that it was all for naught.

Coming back outside after dinner Sylvain took a deep breath. The air was mild, as it tended to be during their summers. Soon the night air would acquire the bite of cold, but for now it was inoffensive, and almost warm.

Making his way toward the stables he spotted Ingrid right away, her bright hair stood out in the lamplight. She had her back to him, and was brushing out the mane of Sylvain’s own horse.

“Did you miss him?” Sylvain asked as he drew near.

Ingrid didn’t turn to Sylvain, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Of course, Fenris has always been a favourite of mine.”

Sylvain leaned against the gate of the empty stall next to his horse’s and watched Ingrid for a moment; she glanced at him and smiled serenely, like at that moment she was at complete peace. Sylvain smiled back, and then sighed a little as he looked away.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked back up, “Wong? I didn’t say there was anything wrong.”

Ingrid gave him a smile that was equal parts and amused and patient. “Sylvain, we’ve known each other most of our lives.” She gestured in his direction, as if to encompass all of him, and then gestured specifically to his face, “You look sad.”

Sylvain glanced away; he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the gate now. Looking up into the patch of sky he could still see from under the roof of the stable, Sylvain gave another small sigh.

“I’m not – “ He started, stopped, and tried again. “It’s just – have you ever – “ Sylvain made a small frustrated noise.

It wasn’t until someone had asked, someone he trusted, and cared for, that Sylvain realized he very much wanted to talk about what was wrong. Of course, if he wanted to speak to anyone, it was Felix, which he felt would be both easier and much more difficult. Though the problem now was just that Sylvain didn’t know how to phrase what was troubling him without simply telling Ingrid everything, and he didn’t think he was ready to share this thing with Felix with anyone. Not necessarily because he was worried about what anyone might think, but because it was still something that was for just the two of them.

He pushed his bangs back in a quick agitated gesture, and crossed his arms again, tightly.

“I envy you,” he finally got out. He could practically feel Ingrid’s surprise as she stopped brushing Fenris. “You stood up to your father, you refused to further his agenda with your marriage, and you became a knight. You’re strong and brave, you chose to follow your heart, and I envy you that.”

His words were met with silence for a long moment. Sylvain didn’t turn to look at her, but he could tell from the sounds and her movements that she was putting the brush away, and cleaning off. He let her do that without interruption, he didn’t know what he hoped to get from this particular confession, but Sylvain waited, hoping for something.

Ingrid came to lean her back against the gate as well, mirroring him, but her posture was much more relaxed than his.

“You’re all those things too, Sylvain,” Ingrid said finally, softly into the quiet. “You’re the hero of your own story. You have courage and conviction, all that’s left is to let your heart guide you, the way I let mine.” Sylvain turned to look at her then, and saw she was smiling, soft, and comforting, and it soothed his troubled heart a little. Sylvain gave her a small smile of his own, and looked back out at the sky. “You finally found someone you’re willing to fight for.”

It wasn’t a question; Ingrid said it like a statement. Sylvain’s head whipped around so quickly he was surprised he didn’t hurt himself with the motion. She laughed softly at his reaction, “You’re blushing,” Ingrid said, “how sweet.”

“Shut up,” Sylvain muttered, feeling like they were children again, teasing each other at every turn. “That’s not – I haven’t – “

Ingrid reached out and took his hand, she squeezed once, firmly, with the quiet strength she always possessed. “I have faith in you, Sylvain. You don’t really envy me; you know you have it in you to do what makes you happy. I understand, it’s always hard to take the first step, but I’m certain you’ll find you won’t fall, Sylvain, you’ll fly.”

He squeezed Ingrid’s hand in return, feeling his heart fill with emotion. “Thank you,” he said. “Cleaning up my messes all these years really made you wise, huh?”

Ingrid gave him a look and let go of his hand to shove at him. “If you break this person’s heart, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I never said there was anyone’s heart _to_ break.”

“Yes, but you didn’t deny it either.”

The corner of Sylvain’s mouth twitched up. “You know,” he said, changing the subject, “I assisted with the birth of a foal recently.”

“No! You did? What happened?”

They talked well into the night. Although Ingrid hadn’t magically solved his problems, as a small childish part of Sylvain had vainly hoped she would, her words had given him heart. They were the encouragement he needed, though Sylvain chose not to think about the implications of the other things she had said. For now he had to focus on what he wanted. He knew he didn’t want to marry for money or power, he didn’t want to sit in the estate and answer to his father’s every whim, but he was so used to thinking that he would eventually do everything he was bid that he had never really considered _what_ he wanted. What was it that Sylvain truly wanted for himself?

Back in his own room, after he had seen Ingrid off to her room and bid her a goodnight, Sylvain took parchment, quills, and ink with him to bed. There he sat staring at the blank page for a long moment. He had written Felix letters before, but he suddenly wasn’t sure how to address them. He had often started them teasingly with ‘ _Darling Felix,_ ’ or ‘ _My Dearest Felix,_ ’ but this tone didn’t seem right anymore. It felt too risky, too bold, too…something. Sylvain left off a greeting for now and began to attempt to write the body of the letter.

In the years they were apart during the war, before they had united again with Byleth’s return, Sylvain often wrote Felix about utter nonsense.

_I forgot my tea out in the balcony again, I came back at night, and it was filled with debris. But, Felix, worst of all, it was ice cold._

Sylvain wanted to write that sort of thing again, but he also wanted to write something of what he was feeling as well. Would it be received well if he did?

He chewed his lip as he held his quill poised over the parchment. Sylvain took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

_I miss you._

Sylvain paused staring at those three small, seemingly innocent words sitting boldly on the paper. He couldn’t leave it. With a gentle flick, Sylvain turned the period into a comma.

_I miss you, there’s no one here who glares at me quite the same way you do._

The tension in Sylvain’s stomach eased a little when he looked at what he had written, he felt better seeing it that way, less exposed.

_I miss Silvia’s cooking too, the whole time I was there she made my favourite tarts, I don’t even get that sort of appreciation back in Gautier, funny, isn’t it? But, you know what I do get here? Piles of paperwork, heaps of it, Felix. It reminds me of the days at the academy when we would leave our assignments to the night before they were due, spend hours sitting in the common room, and write nonstop, only that has become my every day. I had never expected that particular aspect of my education to be the part that was preparing me for my future._

_I miss having your company while I do my work; I miss Dimitri, Byleth, everyone from Blue Lion. Speaking of which, guess who came to visit me._

Sylvain went on, telling Felix about Ingrid, and after hesitating for just a moment, about Lea too. He tried to sound nonchalant as he wrote about her and her family.

_She’s a sweet girl, but I’ve already made it clear I won’t be accepting her hand._

At the end of the letter Sylvain paused again, in the same way he wasn’t sure how to address the letter he didn’t know how to sign it either.

Finally he settled for, ‘ _Yours,_ _Sylvain_.’ Then, he went back to the beginning of the letter and addressed it, ‘ _Dear Felix,_ ’ Sylvain let the ink dry, and then carefully folded and sealed the letter. Getting into bed he left it on his bedside table to bring down to a messenger first thing in the morning. It wasn’t the same as having Felix with him, seeing his sharp eyes, perfectly arched eyebrows, or finely shaped mouth in person as he sat silently listening to Sylvain prattle on, but it was better than nothing.


	6. Distance - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I offer you some angsty sylvix in this trying time??

And you're on fire  
When he's near you  
You're on fire  
When he speaks  
You're on fire  
Burning at these mysteries

- _On Fire_ , Switchfoot

It was one month and three more letters before Sylvain heard back from Felix.

He had been walking to his father’s study to deliver a report. A messenger stopped him a few feet from the door, and Sylvain took the letter from him so eagerly the young man startled. Sylvain didn’t even notice, he barely had the presence of mind to thank him before he was running into his father’s study, hastily going through the formalities of greeting him, and presenting him with what he had asked for, and then running back out. He had almost turned and made directly for his chambers the moment he saw what had arrived, but had decided he wanted the luxury of time with Felix’s letter.

Back in his room Sylvain made himself carefully open the envelope, it was sealed with the crest of Felix’s house, and Sylvain wanted to tear it open, but he was too worried he’d rip the letter instead.

He walked blindly into his room; his eyes didn’t leave paper, and sat on the edge of his bed without looking.

_Reports of all the work you do are obviously exaggerated if you find the time to write me so often._

_You are right; I don’t care how long your hair has gotten, why would you bother me with this?_

_Ingrid came to see me as well. She was impressed with the help you gave Izzy; I still cannot believe you were that competent either._

_With all the supposed work you do, don’t forget to train. I will knock you onto your back in the sand pit if you don’t, not that it’s hard._

_-Felix_

_P.S. Izzy’s foal is a boy; I have named him Nemorous._

Sylvain read the letter over three times before he sighed and let himself fall back onto the bed pressing the letter to his chest, closing his eyes, and smiling. It was ridiculous, _he_ was being ridiculous, but Sylvain could hardly help how happy this made him. Felix had written to him, he had sat down, and penned these words to him, and referenced three different letters in one, so he must have read them. He didn’t complain about all the letters Sylvain sent like he had in the past, he didn’t even attempt to tell him to stop.

Felix’s letter was barely a paragraph long, but it made the part of his heart that was always missing Felix suddenly take over the whole of him. It was a sharp ache, a longing that seemed to physically hurt him. Sylvain sat up abruptly; he carefully folded the letter, putting it in his drawer, and then began to pack. He threw things hastily into one small bag, he wouldn’t be gone long, and he didn’t need much. Thankfully the weather was still good, and he didn’t need to worry overmuch about that.

He hurried out of his room and toward the stables. The staff there attempted to help him, but it was faster if Sylvain did it himself. He left word with them to inform his father that he would be back in the morning, and then rode off.

Despite Felix’s jabs at Sylvain for being too lax, he _was_ taking his responsibilities seriously. He did have things he needed to do, and he wanted to finish them, but what he wanted most right now was to be in Fraldarius. And, if he let himself think about it, he was going to come to the logical conclusion that he should not simply pick up and run, so he had to move fast. Sylvain set off at a brisk pace, careful not to push his horse too hard, but still ride fast enough that the mild autumn weather seemed cool to him with the rapid flow of air.

He stopped once to water his horse and give him something to eat. Sylvain stretched his legs, too, and then rode again. Despite his haste, Sylvain still arrived well after midnight. The guards were obviously surprised to see him, but quickly let him through when they realized who had come at this late hour. Sylvain refused their offers to fetch the stable hands to help him, and took care of his horse himself. He paused only to check on Izzy, who was in a larger stall now with her son.

“Forgive the late hour, my lady,” Sylvain said when Izzy blinked sleepily at him, raising her head slightly from where she lay, obviously woken by the noise. “I’ve come to see your master, but I promise I’ll say goodbye before I leave.” Izzy closed her eyes and went back to sleep, Sylvain smiled at the foal that slept on without stirring.

Sylvain made directly for Felix’s room. He didn’t pass many people at this time of night, one or two servants who bowed or curtseyed hastily, but didn’t seem particularly surprised to see him. Or, at least no one questioned his sudden appearance.

He knocked once on Felix’s door before he burst in. It wasn’t locked, and there was a lamp burning by the door. He heard Felix move in his study situated on the other side of his sitting room, the door was wide open, and Felix came out looking confused and annoyed, and then surprised when he saw Sylvain.

“What are you – “ he managed to get out before Sylvain was across the room and pulling Felix into his arms.

Felix tensed, and then slowly relaxed. He didn’t put his arms around Sylvain in return, but he didn’t push him off either. Sylvain’s face was pressed to the warmth of Felix’s neck, and he felt whole again. He hadn’t realized that was what he was feeling until he saw Felix again, until he held him in arms, but it was as if part of Sylvain had been missing. Because, he missed so many of his friends, but he hadn’t felt anything like this when he saw Ingrid again, the gladness that welled in him when he saw her was happy and light, this was a relief and satisfaction so profound it was like taking a breath again after nearly drowning.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Felix said after a long moment, though Sylvain hadn’t said anything aloud. “It hasn’t been that long.” He squirmed slightly. Sylvain lifted a hand to thread his fingers in Felix’s hair, it was loose, and Sylvain so rarely got to touch it like this.

“Enough,” Felix said, and this time he made a real attempt to free himself. Sylvain let him go, reluctantly, but without protest. “What?” Felix demanded when he caught sight of Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain was smiling, “Nothing.”

Felix gave him a look that said he obviously didn’t believe him. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well? Is there a reason you’ve come uninvited in the middle of the night, or were you just passing through as well?”

“Just passing through.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and Felix seemed to be searching for something in his expression. Sylvain wasn’t entirely sure what he would find there, he couldn’t disguise how happy he was. It was probably because of that that Felix looked away, almost as if embarrassed.

“Then, you’ll find your room ready for your use.”

Surprised, Sylvain replied, “Really?”

Suddenly, and inexplicably defensive, Felix shot back, “I know how impulsive you are! You could sleep in stables for all I care, but you would disturb the horses, maintaining your room keeps you out of the way.”

For some reason this made Sylvain happy too. He closed the distance between them again, and tucked a long strand of Felix’s hair behind his ear, using the movement as an excuse to touch his face. Felix wouldn’t look him in the eye; his cheeks were pink.

“Thank you,” Sylvain said.

Sylvain could feel the tension in Felix now. He was holding himself tightly, as if he were holding himself back. Sylvain ran his thumb lightly over Felix’s jaw. Finally, Felix glanced up, and their eyes met.

It was like a spark suddenly igniting.

They both moved all at once, pulling on belts and ties. Sylvain still had his bag slung over his shoulder; he threw that down without looking. He was getting very good at undoing belts that were not on himself, his fingers were more deft than clumsy now despite the urgency muddling his thoughts. At the same time as he unbuckled Sylvain, Felix was pushing him back, Sylvain felt his back hit the wall at the same instant his trousers fell open.

Perhaps one day Felix’s touch wouldn’t feel like a match catching oil, setting his body ablaze in an instant. But, it seemed impossible that the feel of his hands would ever bring Sylvain anything other than the most acute pleasure.

They were both breathing hard, the sensation of Felix’s hard cock in Sylvain’s hand was as exciting to him now as Felix’s own touch on Sylvain. He pressed his mouth to Felix’s neck again, kissing sweetly, and then biting. Felix made a sound in the back of his throat, and Sylvain felt his knees buckle. He managed to catch Felix, but they were both sinking to the floor.

Without missing a beat, Felix climbed onto Sylvain’s lap, either to disguise the fact that he had just literally gone weak at the knees, or because that was just how much he wanted Sylvain. Personally, Sylvain didn’t mind what the reason was, because this position, Felix’s weight over him, his hips moving in time with Sylvain’s own, his hair framing his face, and his hand gripping Sylvain’s shoulder, it wasn’t something he would question for any reason.

Felix dropped his head to Sylvain’s shoulder; his harsh breathing and the soft sounds he made so close to Sylvain’s ear were his undoing. He stroked Felix firmly upward, heard Felix’s breath catch on a gasp, and Sylvain came. That sound, this sensation, they were going to stay with him in waking hours and in dreams.

When Sylvain had a moment to catch his breath Felix lifted his head. He was still breathing hard, he hadn’t come yet, but he smirked at Sylvain. “That was fast,” he said.

Sylvain smiled slowly, “You would know.”

After he brought Felix to his own climax, they moved to the bed, taking the time to pull off their boots. Then, Sylvain laid Felix on his back and roused him again with his mouth. The feel of Felix’s toes curling on Sylvain’s back was more arousing than Sylvain had anticipated.

Later, when it was so late it was almost early, they lay side by side on the bed. They were breathing evenly again, and Sylvain couldn’t stop himself from shooting Felix glances from the corner of his eye. Since his hair was unbound, it was spread out on the pillow above his head, and he looked almost exactly the way Sylvain had been dreaming him.

“If you had arrived here one day later you would not have found me,” Felix said, breaking the stillness. Sylvain turned his head now to look at him, but Felix addressed the canopy of his bed. “I leave for Gloucester in the morning.”

“You do? What for?”

“Yes,” said Felix. A short pause, and then, “I’m to meet with a possible marriage prospect.”

The warm contended atmosphere they had been wrapped in dissipated instantly, like the flicker of a lantern, suddenly plunging Sylvain into darkness. Stunned, he didn’t react right away; even the dread that inevitably crept in did so slowly, as if it too couldn’t quite believe its ears.

He had not forgotten that this was looming on the edges of their time, but it still hit Sylvain like a gut punch.

Sylvain opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and swallowed. He turned his head to look at the canopy as well. “Do you know who?” He finally asked.

“It doesn’t matter, I will meet her, and if suitable, after courtship, I will make her an offer.”

“How romantic,” Sylvain replied past the lump in his throat. It felt as if someone were reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart. Felix had spoken matter-of-factly, without emotion or inflection. No anger, no resentment, not even annoyance at having to take the time to travel, time that he could spend training. Perhaps Felix simply didn’t care about these things; he had wanted to sleep with Sylvain without commitment either. Feelings, love, sex, maybe they were all inconsequential to Felix, and Sylvain was only a novelty, as he always was.

Maybe this served Sylvain right; Miklan had always told Sylvain he would never be loved for who he was. And Sylvain had killed him, so perhaps this was the price he paid for spilling his own brother’s blood.

Sylvain smiled a little, bitterly; he would have thought he was accustomed to being used by now. Older, but no wiser, it seemed.

“Well,” said Sylvain, in a passable imitation of his usual tone, “I hope she’s cute, let me know if she has a sister for me.”

Felix sat up then, and began tidying his clothing. A second later, Sylvain did the same. They straightened up in silence, and Sylvain remembered he had brought something with him for Felix. As he walked into the other room to collect his bag he thought about whether or not he should still give it to him.

Sylvain had brought it all this way, he had no use for it, and so he may as well.

He picked his bag up and walked back into Felix’s room. He found Felix fiddling with his own bags, presumably ones he would take with him on his trip.

“Felix,” Sylvain said, but his friend didn’t pause or turn to look at him. Sylvain unbuttoned a small pocket on the inside of his pack and withdrew a small cloth pouch. He felt the edge of the hair clasp through the soft material as he walked over to Felix and then proffered it.

Now, Felix did pause. He looked at Sylvain’s hand, and then his face. “What is this?”

Sylvain shrugged, “It’s nothing, just – It’s for you.”

Felix looked down at Sylvain’s outstretched hand for one more second before slowly reaching out and taking the small plain pouch. Sylvain smiled, and took a step back; suddenly he wanted very much to leave.

“Have a good trip,” Sylvain said, turned, and left.

It wasn’t altogether safe to travel alone at night, and his horse most likely needed more rest than this, but if Sylvain needed to, he would stop by an inn, he felt abruptly that he couldn’t be here any longer. So, he walked right passed the room that had been designated as his own and made for the stables. He woke Fenris, sleeping peacefully, and murmured a quick apology.

“We’ll stop somewhere you can rest, I promise,” Sylvain said, and patted his horse’s head. Resisting the urge to glance back, Sylvain made for Gautier.

His father was not happy that Sylvain had suddenly disappeared without a word, never mind that he was back before Margrave had even finished his breakfast. Sylvain had been made to stand in front of everyone at their council meeting to be reprimanded like a child. Sylvain stood there, offering no excuses or explanations, and answered with a flat, “I apologize, father,” when Margrave paused for breath.

“Well, let the punishment suit the crime. As you enjoy travel so greatly, Sylvain, you will make your way across Faerghus to every county and send me reports on their post-war progress. I want to know how they are dealing with the unification; I want to know the state of their county under the new rule, I want to know any significant grievances, and what’s being done to solve them. Let them know Gautier is their friend should they need it.” He paused, and then smiled without humour. “When you come back be prepared to begin courtship. I’ve let you idle about for months, but this house needs heirs. Since you’ve come to no decision on your own, I will make it for you.”

Sylvain felt his stomach sink, but he gave no outward sign of his feelings.

“However,” his father added, as if on an afterthought “Should you find yourself someone suitable in your travels, then I will consider her for my daughter-in-law. I feel this is more than fair.”

The room was silent; no one moved to agree with him, the council looked on soberly as Sylvain was admonished.

“I will give you further details in the next few days. You leave in one week.”

“Yes, father.”

In the week that followed Sylvain ended most nights drinking. Attractive women, and one or two men, approached him with the clear intent of warming his bed for the night, and Sylvain _wanted_ to accept their offers, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

Sylvain decided that he was obviously conflating feelings of friendship with the pleasures of a physical relationship, and that was why he was feeling especially attached to Felix. It was good that he was being made to travel for months. It was for the best that he wouldn’t see Felix in that time. And, when he was no doubt hastily married after returning, he could have someone else to focus his attention on.

The sun that warmed his heart and lit up his being might never shine again, but the pressure that seemed to be crushing his chest might ease in time.

On the morning of his departure, Sylvain met with the party he was to travel with. In typical Margrave fashion, he had picked even this for Sylvain, though Sylvain saw with some surprised that he had not been saddled with a group of surly gruff men, but rather a handful of young people. Obviously Sylvain was forgetting that most of the gruff men he had been imagining had died in the war, and he took a moment to apologize in his head for his oversight.

They met in the courtyard as the sun was rising. Three men, the oldest of which seemed to be only a few years older than Sylvain himself, and two young women. If he had met them before, he didn’t recognize them, they all saluted as he approached them, and Sylvain nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good morning,” Sylvain said, “Thank you for joining me on this trip, I apologize in advance for any mishaps I may lead us into.” The older man smiled a little, but everyone else looked at him soberly. Sylvain cleared his throat and continued, “May I ask for your names and positions?”

He looked at the older man who stood on the far right to begin.

“Lukas Paquet,” he said, “Your personal guard, my Lord.”

The young man beside him spoke when Sylvain looked to him next, “Fynn Braun, my Lord,” he said, and he did indeed have brown hair, “Scribe.”

“Moritz Friedrich, my Lord, diplomat.”

“Lena Lefebvre, personal guard, my Lord.”

“Sofie Engel, personal guard, my Lord.”

Sylvain nodded again when they were done. “It would be easier on all of us if we were to get along well in the coming months. If you have any grievances, please bring them to my attention immediately. I expect you all to treat me and each other with respect, any unacceptable behaviour will be reprimanded and I will not take you any further with me, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they all chorused.

“Good.” Said Sylvain, “Then, let’s be on our way.”

Before they left Gautier, Sylvain had sent a messenger to inquire about Felix’s whereabouts. If he wasn’t currently in Fraldarius then there was little point in their visiting. That’s how Sylvain came to learn that Felix would be in Gloucester for one month. He told Fynn this, and the young man adjusted their course to save the trip to Fraldarius for their return journey.

Sylvain learned a few things about his companions right away. Fynn was shy; he spoke only when spoken to, and was the youngest of them at twenty. Moritz loved the sound of his own voice by contrast; he regaled them all without prompting with the tales of his travels. Lukas wasn’t much for chatter either, unless it was to point out inconsistencies in Moritz’s stories. Lena laughed loudly and unreservedly, apparently she had a reputation as a brawler. And Sofie’s real passion was inventing, she and Lena were childhood friends, but instead of choosing to pursue a quiet life in a workshop, Sofie had chosen to train alongside Lena.

They had to pass through Itha first, which is where Sylvain got better acquainted with his party. Everyone knew some level of combat, Fynn had a longbow, and Moritz a throwing axe. They cut their way through monsters Sylvain had become familiar with during his time at the academy and during the war. Although they didn’t instantly fall in sync the way Sylvain had with members of Blue Lion, they still worked well together, and Sylvain found he really wasn’t half bad at leading.

The notable exceptions were Lena and Sofie who fought as though they could read each other’s thoughts. Sylvain found himself fighting with the two young women guarding his back and almost wanted to move to the sidelines simply to watch the fluid way they worked together.

After the first rare beast they fought together was defeated Sylvain beamed at them. “I see I’m in good hands,” he said.

Lukas, who was not even short of breath, patted Moritz hard on the back and threw him a towel as the other man attempted, with obvious disgust, to wipe down his bloodstained clothing. Moritz shot a glare at Lukas that he either didn’t see, or pretended not to.

After Itha their first real stop was Fhirdiad. It felt like years and not months since Sylvain had been here. It wasn’t very long ago, but Sylvain was a different person since then. He had certainly learned something about himself since his last visit at the very least.

Arriving at the castle they were greeted not by the King and Archbishop, but by their administrator who informed them that Dimitri and Byleth would greet them at dinner.

“My Lord,” he said, addressing Sylvain. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I hear you have yet to select the lucky lady who will be your wife. Still enjoying the life of a bachelor, eh?” The older man spoke jovially, and Sylvain had the impression they had gone drinking together once, but he felt suddenly as if he were in the presence of an overly inquisitive uncle.

“Ah,” Sylvain began.

“Sir Roth!” Moritz materialized suddenly at Sylvain’s side. “The years have treated you kindly I see!”

While Roth was distracted with Moritz, Sylvain quietly excused himself. He caught Moritz’s eyes as he made his escape and his companion winked almost imperceptibly at him. Sylvain felt himself warm to the chatty diplomat.

They were shown to their quarters, Sylvain was surprised to find his own was in the Royal Wing. His guard were given leave to spend the time as they chose and Sylvain prepared himself to deal with council members, officials, foreign nobles, and any other person who may suddenly ask him of his personal life. As much as he had appreciated Moritz’s help, there was no way the young man could keep the questions at bay for Sylvain forever. Sylvain took a deep breath, and left his rooms.

It was here that Sylvain felt the full weight of Moritz and Fynn’s worth. Between the two of them Sylvain navigated the court with remarkable ease. They were both well informed, and tactful, and while Sylvain wasn’t without his own knowledge or social abilities, court dealings were always different.

On his fourth day in the capital, he was asked to join the King and Archbishop for breakfast. Walking into their private sunroom he found his friends already sitting at a table in the far right of the room. Sunrooms were meant to be bright and airy, but because Faerghus was so cold it could really only be the former. They were already in the chill of autumn, but the sky had not yet turned grey with the promise of snow. So, the room was bright, and the soft cream colours of the décor gave it a pleasant atmosphere, but it was probably the way his friends’ faces lit up when they saw him that made the room so warm.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling.

His friends returned Sylvain’s greeting and invited him to sit across from them. They hadn’t begun eating yet, though they had both clearly already started drinking tea. Without prompting, Byleth poured him a cup, and Dimitri offered Sylvain some of his favourite pastries.

This wasn’t the same kind of homecoming he felt when he was with Felix, but it was something akin to it.

“How has your stay been?” Dimitri asked as he passed Byleth the sugar for her tea. “I apologize that neither of us have been able to truly spend time with you until now.”

Sylvain shook his head as he chewed. “Don’t apologize. You’re both busy, and that’s more than fair. But, my stay has been fine, a lot better now that I get to see the most beautiful teacher I ever had again.” Sylvain added, with a wink at Byleth.

Neither Dimitri, nor Byleth reacted to Sylvain’s flirting. Sylvain thought he must have been losing his touch.

“I thought that was Manuela,” Byleth replied.

Before Sylvain could say anything to this, there was a knock on the door. Dimitri and Byleth exchanged a look, and she called, “Come in.”

A servant entered, she curtsied deeply, careful to include all of them, and held out a letter. Sylvain shifted slightly to let her pass around him, assuming the letter would be for one of his friends. But, instead, the maid walked to him.

“This just came for you, my Lord.”

Sylvain took the letter with bewildered thanks. His name was written in a deeply familiar hand, and turning it over he found the Fraldarius seal stamped in wax.

“Ah,” said Dimitri, and Sylvain realized both he and Byleth had been watching him closely, obviously surprised. “Felix.”

“How – “ Sylvain had to clear his throat. “How did he know I was here?”

“I told him.” Said Byleth. Sylvain looked up at her, she bit calmly into a piece of buttered bread. Speaking around it, she said, “We share battle strategies from time to time, I just mentioned you had arrived.”

Sylvain looked back down at the letter, and then hurriedly broke the seal.

It wasn’t a letter; it was more like a note.

_I’ll use it._

_Thank you._

Sylvain knew instantly what Felix meant. He felt the first feeble rays of light from the sun in his heart as it began once again to warm him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I hope everyone is okay! It's a mad, mad world, y'all, and I really hope everyone is doing well. Covid-19 finally shut down my workplace, so maybe I'll have more time to write?? I can't say, I do a lot of stuff online, so we'll see! 
> 
> A note on "Nemorous." Sylvain's name comes from the word "sylvan" which means woods or forest, and "nemorous" means "grove." So, Felix named the horse after him, but he didn't wanna be obvy, and I will tell you right now Sylvain has no idea. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, they mean a lot to me!!! :') Take care, fam!! <333


	7. Distance - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter made me realize how much sex is in this fic. I was like, "Oh, that doesn't happen in this chapter, how novel." 
> 
> Sorry to disappoint?? I hope you enjoy anyway!

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
You left me in the dark  
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
In the shadow of your heart

- _Cosmic Love,_ Florence + the Machine

Their stay in Fhirdiad was the longest, but soon they set out again. Between the time it took to travel and the time they would spend in each county or city, their trip would easily be three months long.

It turned out Dimitri was the only one who treated their party as if they were there on business. Every other Lord they visited treated them as if they were long awaited friends. Sylvain understood this to be not because they were eager to strengthen ties to Gautier precisely, but because they wanted the connection to Sylvain himself, who was a war hero, and known close friend of both the King and Archbishop. He was grateful to have Moritz with him when the nobles paraded before Sylvain their daughters, nieces, and other young ladies in their families. Moritz helped deflect when Sylvain grew weary of having to politely sidestep. As much as Sylvain joked otherwise, he had long ago grown tired of young women vying for his attention.

He wrote Felix often, but because he was constantly moving he told his friend there was no point in him replying. Whether Felix was heeding his suggestion, or simply had no plan in writing back in the first place, the result was the same, and Sylvain received nothing in return. He thought about the note Felix had last sent him, two short lines, and it did far more to buoy him than he ever would have thought possible, and so he kept writing. Perhaps, when he finally made it back to Fraldarius, he would have the chance to see the jade of his mother’s hair ornament against the dark silk of Felix’s hair.

His companions quickly seemed to realize he needed his space when he wrote. They never asked to whom he sent all his letters, and they had probably also realized that at least most of them were being sent to the same person. It must also be obvious to them that whoever it was was important to Sylvain. If he were in court this information would be scandalous, and the cause of endless speculation, but his party seemed content to mind their own business, and Sylvain was again grateful to be accompanied by these people in particular.

After the first month, the weather began to turn, while they could still set up camp outdoors, they were a people native to a country where winter ruled, they had means of survival in this weather, but even so, they did their best to stop at inns whenever possible.

The first heavy snowfall found them taking shelter in the house of a newly prosperous cloth merchant. His servants, who had been returning after running errands in town, had managed to make out the crest of Gautier draped over the side of Sylvain’s horse and waved them down.

They stood in the rather small entranceway, all of them brushing snow off their clothing and apologizing for the mess.

“Please,” said the merchant in a deep jovial voice. “It’s no trouble, I’m glad to be able to assist, it seems as if we’ll have snow at least all night.”

“We appreciate your generosity, sir.” Sylvain replied, pulling off his gloves. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Sylvain José Gauiter – “

“Oh yes, my Lord,” the merchant cut in, as if unable to stop himself. “I know well who you are!”

Sylvain put on his courtly smile, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. “And, who, may I ask, am I to thank for such hospitality?”

“Byron Beaumont, my Lord, a humble cloth merchant.” Byron replied beaming. Just then two women appeared, one clearly the mistress of the house, and the other a maid who carried a basket of house slippers. “And this,” he gestured grandly, “Is my beautiful wife, Eloise.”

Realizing that they were indirectly being asked to take off their wet dripping boots, Sylvain first bowed to the lady and then bent to untie his boots, his companions followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to have you in our home, my Lord,” Eloise said, “But, Byron, introductions while these poor travellers are still in their cold wet things?” She scolded her husband gently, and he looked appropriately mournful of his oversight. “There will be time for introductions of all our guests once they are warm and dry.” She helped pass around the slippers, which they all took gratefully. “Now, please follow Ginny to your rooms.”

Sylvain hesitated, the house wasn’t very big, and they couldn’t have more than one, possibly two spare bedrooms.

Correctly reading Sylvain’s hesitancy, Eloise, gestured him forward. “Oh, please don’t worry about anything, we would be so grateful if you would accept the accommodations we have made.”

Relenting, Sylvain replied, “Yes, thank you,” and smiled again.

Sylvain was led to what was obviously the master bedroom. It had taken his party a little time to stable their horses and collect their things, but everyone in the household must have rushed to clean and straighten the rooms in order to have them presentable. Sylvain had been in grander, finer places than this, of course, but he appreciated this more knowing he had literally been given someone else’s bed.

The servant who had spotted them on the road, an older man, came in after a moment with the maid Ginny. After Sylvain opened the door they came in hauling hot water, for a bath, and there was no protest Sylvain could make, they had already brought the water all this way.

Sylvain bathed, and then took the time to shave. He hadn’t yet let himself grow a full beard, which he had been capable of for some years now, but travel meant he often grew a face full of ginger scruff if he missed a day of shaving. He changed into fresh clothing, and the one pair of indoor boots he had brought. Then, he made his way out.

Sylvain followed the sound of voices into a warm sitting room. On the opposite side of the entrance Sylvain came through was a sizeable fireplace, chairs and couches were arranged in a semi circle around it, the décor was simple, but one or two pieces stood out, seeming old and more valuable than the rest, as if perhaps, they were inherited.

His hosts were both already in the sitting room, they both stood by a small drinks table, Fynn and Lukas were already seated, and they all turned when they heard Sylvain come in.

“Welcome, my Lord, I trust your accommodations are suitable?”

“Is there anything you’d like to drink?”

Sylvain answered that the room was more than fine, and even attempted to argue over it once again, but his hosts cut him off firmly. Eloise handed him a glass of red wine and gestured that he should sit.

A moment of two later the rest of Sylvain’s party joined them, and they finally did make all their introductions. The Beaumonts seemed to be genuinely interested in not just Sylvain, but all of his companions. The enthusiasm they showed was different than what Sylvain was used to. It didn’t seem practiced, and the Beaumonts made no attempt to keep the focus on Sylvain as many of his other hosts along his trip had done, but took an interest in everyone. Sylvain felt himself relax a fraction.

“Ma’am,” Ginny came up and spoke softly, but still loudly enough that Sylvain turned when he heard her. Elosie was sitting to his immediate right after all. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Eloise replied, she glanced over at the door and frowned. “Would you check on Bea, please? I don’t know what can be keeping that girl.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ginny went off, and Eloise smiled at Sylvain, who seemed to be the only person who paid attention to this exchange. She didn’t offer an explanation, just turned back to Moritz who had once again seized his opportunity for a captive audience.

“And, then of course, the King was so grateful he wanted to gift me the gold, but I declined, naturally.” Moritz finished his story by leaning back in his chair and feigning modesty.

“Which he couldn’t have given anyway,” Lukas pointed out, “Since you said that was the store he was using to fund the army. Wasn’t that the point of this story?”

Moritz shot him a glare, and Sylvain was ready to jump in and smooth over the inevitable argument, but just then someone else entered the room.

“There you are, my dear!” Byron stood, and all the men seated did as well, “Come greet our guests.”

A young woman had entered the room; she had her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s honey coloured hair. She wore a pale cream dress trimmed with soft blue lace, she was slender, but the way she held herself was solid and strong, she was very beautiful.

“My dear guests,” Byron continued when the young woman came to stand at his side. He put his arm around her shoulders and said very proudly, “Allow me to introduce you to my lovely daughter, Beatrice Beaumont. Bea, we are lucky enough to have guests from Gautier this evening, including the young Gautier Lord himself!” He gestured to Sylvain, who bowed. “I’m afraid introductions will be asked for once more!” Byron boomed, he was absolutely beaming.

“Yes, of course, my dear,” Eloise said mildly, but not without amusement, she stood as well. “But first,” she gestured to the door, “Dinner awaits us.”

It turned out that the unification of the lands under the King was improving things for trade merchants like Byron. Taxation was lighter, and it was easier for the merchant to travel across the boarder. There was also a sense of indulgence after the grim realities of war, people wanted to look at beautiful things, they wanted to break free of the rations of war time, and so things were going well for the Beaumonts. Byron regaled them all with the ideas he had for additions he wanted to make to the house, Sofie seemed to be the only one of them that was truly interested in his ideas.

Sylvain sat to Byron’s immediate right, in the place of honour, and next to him sat Beatrice. They had exchanged pleasantries as the meal began, but the merchant’s daughter hadn’t attempted to engage him in conversation since. Sylvain noticed this simply because he had braced himself for an attempt to catch his eye, but Beatrice seemed content to keep a polite distance. Instead, it was Sylvain who struck up a conversation with her.

“There were quite lovely horses in your stables, Miss Beaumont, would any of them happen to be yours?”

Beatrice looked up from her plate, she seemed surprised to have been addressed, “Yes, the chestnut mare, she’s mine, my Lord.”

“Ah,” said Sylvain, remembering, “She’s lovely. You ride then?”

“Yes, whenever I can.”

Sylvain smiled, “I have a friend who takes every opportunity to ride as well.”

“And, you don’t, my Lord?”

“Now, more than I used to. I helped deliver a foal.”

Beatrice’s face lit up, Sylvain hadn’t realized when he had done it, but delivering Izzy’s foal was social currency he would be spending for quite some time. He could tell that it had certainly been worth something to Beatrice. Sylvain told her all about it, and found that not only did Beatrice ride, she also had some training with a bow.

“I wanted to fight in the war,” she confessed to Sylvain when the conversation had moved from horsemanship to combat, “But, I am my family’s only heir, they didn’t want me risking my life.”

Sylvain nodded, “You’re lucky to have parents who value you more than the possible glory you might bring them. You made the right decision.”

She gave him a look at that, as if she wasn’t sure if he were patronizing her or not, but Sylvain was being sincere, and her expression cleared soon enough.

Dinner passed pleasantly, they were soon pulled into a table wide discussion about whether toasted bread was better than untoasted, which Sylvain found everyone seemed to have strong opinions on. Even Fynn, as mild and reserved as he could be insisted adamantly that toasted was far superior.

After dinner they were all invited for drinks in the sitting room, and as much as Sylvain wanted to accept, he was tired from travel, and even if he weren’t, he didn’t want to impose more than he already was doing. He would be sure to leave the Beaumonts some money, or perhaps send their servants into town to buy supplies to replace what his party would use, but either way he didn’t want to take from them more than he already would.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Sylvain began, and put on his most apologetic smile. “But, I must decline, we’ve been riding all day and I may just fall asleep with a glass of brandy in my hand if I don’t retire now.”

Following his lead, the rest of Sylvain’s companions also declined, pleading exhaustion. Although visibly crestfallen, Byron relented.

“Well, you must be tired, yes, please get some rest. I’ll send Giles up shortly to see if you need anything else, I’ll send Ginny to the ladies,” he inclined his head to Lena and Sofie, “Please do let us know if you have need of anything else.”

Thanking the Beaumonts, they all made their way upstairs. On the landing Fynn paused by the window, he frowned at the snow that continued to fall. “It may continue like this tomorrow as well.” Sylvain looked out as well, there wasn’t much to see at the moment but white.

“I think you’re right,” Sylvain said. “We may have to rely on our hosts for shelter for another day at least.” They all nodded, and Sylvain bid his companions goodnight.

After he had finished getting ready to sleep, Sylvain sat up in bed. He took out his writing supplies, and began a new letter.

_Dear Felix,_

_Today, my companions and I find ourselves guests in the house of a local merchant._

_Have you ever considered travel, Felix? I think you’d enjoy it. Let me tell you, it’s never dull, and you meet all kinds of people. I know how much you enjoy the latter, so really, it’s perfect for you._

Sylvain wrote a full page, and when he was done, left the letter out to dry. He had sand he could use to set the ink, but there was no need to waste it at the moment. So, with that done, he got properly into bed.

Closing his eyes, Sylvain tried to picture the expression Felix would make when he read Sylvain’s letter, he could see clearly Felix’s frown, his unimpressed look. Sylvain smiled, and went to sleep.

Just as Fynn predicted, the snow did not relent the next day. The snow fell more lightly at times, but it didn’t stop altogether. The good news was that it probably wouldn’t continue after this day, so they could keep traveling after this storm passed.

The house was too small for all its occupants at the moment, and they all went to different parts of it to try and make themselves useful. Fynn and Sofie offered to help Byron with the designs he was planning to have made for the construction on his house, Lukas and Lena worked with the servants clearing snow from the stables, and tending to the animals, Moritz helped in the kitchen, and Sylvain found himself short of work. There was more than enough help in every part of the household, so he wandered around trying to find something to do only to be turned away.

“I suppose I could clean my armour, again,” Sylvain muttered as he walked out of the kitchen, rebuffed.

He didn’t get far before he came across Beatrice. She took in his dejected appearance and smiled, “They don’t need you either, hmm?”

Sylvain laughed ruefully, “No, my Lady, it would seem they do not.”

Beatrice waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not a lady, you may call me Beatrice.”

“Beatrice,” Sylvain nodded, “Do you have any suggestions on how I may make myself useful?”

She seemed to seriously consider for a moment, and then her eyes lit up. The look she gave him almost made Sylvain regret he had offered at all, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Yes!”

It turned out that Sylvain could make himself useful by posing. Although Beatrice enjoyed and had some equestrian and archery skills, her real proficiencies were in the arts.

Sylvain had gone to put on his armour; he sat turned slightly so Beatrice saw him in profile. Instead of having him pose with his sword or lance, she had asked him to hold a book. They were in her father’s study, and Sylvain sat leaning against the desk at Beatrice’s request, and had his head inclined slightly to gaze at the open book in his hand.

“This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I offered my services,” Sylvain said after he had been posing for at least half an hour.

“Are you getting sore?” Beatrice asked, ignoring his complaint. “I would have thought you’d have more endurance.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

Sylvain turned his head slightly to look at Beatrice. She had been sketching him earlier, he had heard the scrap of charcoal on paper, but now she held a brush in hand, and seemed to be busy mixing the colours she needed to paint with. As if she felt his gaze, she glanced up. Arching her eyebrow she said, “You better remember exactly how you were earlier if you’re going to move.”

Sylvain, who was used to Felix’s attitude, turned back with equanimity. “Is that how you ask for favours?”

“Please.”

Sylvain smiled. “So, is this what you prefer to do?”

“Yes.”

Beatrice told him about the years she spent studying and practicing her art. She explained her favourite textures and colour schemes, the motifs that found their way into her paintings seemingly without her consciously deciding on them at times, and way time often escaped her when she was painting.

“It’s like,” she paused, and from his periphery, Sylvain could see that her brushstrokes had stopped as well. “It’s like dreaming. No, like, daydreaming, perhaps. I play out the image, the scenario in my head, letting it unfold in the most natural way, and when I finally tune back into reality, hours have passed.” She resumed her work, and it sounded as if she were smiling, “It’s a good thing I practice archery, the strain on the arms and back in painting is easier to handle that way.”

After another half an hour, Beatrice asked, “How do you feel? Do you need to stretch?”

“I’m fine, we can keep going.”

And they did. It was easy to talk to Beatrice, and Sylvain was genuinely curious about her art. She said that most of it was in her own room, though there were some paintings in the servants quarters and guest room. “My parents prefer different styles, though I did paint that landscape in their bedroom.”

They paused finally for lunch, Ginny came to fetch them, and it turned out that Sylvain did need to stretch. Beatrice smiled at him as if she knew what he had just been thinking. Before he could stop himself, he made a face at her, and after a look of surprise, she stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation.

Sylvain had completely forgotten whom he was with for a moment. Being around Beatrice reminded him almost of what it was like to spend time with Ingrid or Dimitri, even Felix, in a way. It felt almost as if she too could have been one of their childhood friends.

After lunch they went back to the study, and Beatrice wouldn’t let him see the work unfinished. Sylvain did need to stretch once or twice more, but he spent the whole day with Beatrice, and found it was almost a surprise to be informed that he had, because before he knew it Ginny was back to summon them for dinner.

They both went to change first, and then came back to find that they were all seated at the table more or less as they had been the night before, meaning Sylvain sat between Byron and his daughter.

This time conversation with Beatrice happened without prompting, they began talking as if they had left conversation threads hanging before, and indeed they had.

Beatrice had a lovely laugh, Sylvain realized, light and easy, it made him happy to see her laugh.

After dinner, when Sylvain had again declined any drinks, Byron asked to speak with him a moment. They went into his study, which was already cleared of Beatrice’s painting things.

“I take it you’ll be on your way once more tomorrow, my Lord?” Byron asked as he walked across the room and poured himself a small glass of something. He turned back and offered a glass to Sylvain as well, “It’s for digestion,” Byron explained, and Sylvain took it as it was already poured.

“Yes,” Sylvain confirmed, “Thank you very much for your hospitality, truly, we’re all very grateful.”

Byron tossed back his drink, and smiled at Sylvain. “There’s no need for thanks, my Lord, it’s our pleasure to host you and yours.” He glanced down, and spun the glass in his hand, looking back up at Sylvain he said, “I see my Bea has taken a liking to you.”

Sylvain felt his guard instantly go up, his shoulders tensed, and he made an effort to relax them again. “She’s easy to speak to.” Sylvain offered cautiously.

Byron nodded, “She can be, when she likes someone.” He raised the hand that wasn’t holding the glass in a placating gesture. “It’s not my intention to have you sign a marriage contract, my Lord, please don’t misunderstand.” If he had been trying to reassure Sylvain, then he really shouldn’t have used the word ‘marriage.’ But, Sylvain said nothing; he let him continue. “I only wanted to make it clear that while I approve of your friendship with my daughter, should that turn to something more, than I would like it to be handled seriously.”

Sylvain nodded, he didn’t know what to say.

Byron nodded too, “Good.” He gestured to Sylvain’s glass; “You should drink that in one go, my Lord.”

Sylvain did as he was bid without thinking, the alcohol burned, and while he didn’t cough, he did wince. Byron laughed, clapped him on the back, and then took his glass.

“I’ll see you in the morning, my Lord.”

That night Sylvain lay in bed, thinking of more than just Felix for once.

His father had bidden him to find a wife, and here Sylvain had practically tripped over a beautiful young woman whom he felt genuinely comfortable with. Was this a sign from the goddess? Would affection for her eventually turn to love? And, how long would it take him to finally pry Felix from his thoughts if he did marry her?

As he tried to sleep, Sylvain felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach, and he didn’t think he could blame the alcohol for it.

*

“Have I said yet that I think the beard was an excellent decision, my Lord?”

“Doesn’t it itch?”

Sylvain looked up from the straps of his horse’s saddlebag. They had stopped at an inn for the night, the only inn in rather small settlement. Sylvain had half wanted to keep pushing forward, they were so close to Fraldarius after two more months of travel, but the sun was about to set, and having a roof over their heads was more important than the lessening of distance between him and Felix, at least it was to his companions.

Moritz and Fynn looked at him, and Sylvain said, belatedly, “Pardon?”

Moritz looked amused, “Angling for more compliments, my Lord? Very well. The beard suits you, the red of it is very striking, and it lends you a strong distinguished air.”

Fynn hesitated then added, “I wondered if it bothered you, my Lord.”

“It doesn’t,” Sylvain replied, and then gave Moritz a wry smile. “Thank you, Moritz, but you know I can’t help you with Lukas, you’ll have to sort that out yourself.”

Moritz sighed dramatically. “No, of course not, that muscle bound brute, he dented my lute and still not a word of apology.”

Sylvain gave him a sympathetic smile, and then finished collecting his things. Once inside Sylvain spoke with the innkeeper to have everyone accommodated. There were no other patrons at the moment, and since they were almost back in Gautier, Sylvain rented all the rooms. It meant there would still need to be two people sharing one of the rooms, but everyone else would have a room for themselves. Relaying this information to his companions, Lena and Sofie volunteered to stay together, and Sylvain went back to the innkeeper to order food for them.

“Ah, would you happen to know if there is anywhere to post letters?”

“Yes, my Lord. If you wish to send anything my boy runs the post out every morning. If it’s just a letter, you may drop it into the slot on the door.” He gestured to the hall at his back where his office most likely was.

Thanking the innkeeper, and taking the key to his door, Sylvain went up to get himself settled. Putting his things down he went to wash up. There was a small washbasin on a small plain wooden table, a fresh washcloth, and an unadorned mirror. After weeks of trudging through the snow, Sylvain had finally relented and let his face have some extra insulation. He kept it as neat as he could, it was fairly close cropped, because as Fynn had suggested, otherwise it did get in his way. And, as Moritz had mentioned, it did make him look more serious, older even. Without it Sylvain looked approximately his own age, but with the beard, a slightly lighter shade of red than his hair, he appeared about thirty or so.

Heading back down once he had changed into something clean and dry, Sylvain found Fynn, Sofie, and Lena at a table. They already had mugs of something in front of them, and there were places set for the rest of them as well. Sylvain smiled as he joined his companions. It had been some time since he had been eager to work with others. It wasn’t the same as when he had been at the academy, but, Sylvain was realizing now, nothing ever would be. It wasn’t just that it was a different time, but Sylvain himself was a different person, the bonds he formed with his party now were inherently of a different nature, they perceived him differently, but his friendships with them were just as real. As much as he had been dreading this task, now he was grateful for it. Finally, his father had done something good for Sylvain; he had given him the opportunity to make friends with people in Gautier.

“We’re just waiting for Moritz and Lukas,” Fynn informed him as Sylvain sat down beside the young scribe.

“Oh, I’m not sure we should wait,” said Sofie, hiding a smile behind her tankard.

Sylvain looked at her questioningly, but Lena was the one to answer, she was grinning. “I think the tension has finally broken, and it’s about time. If Sofie had taken my bet, I would have won.”

“That’s why I never agree to any of your bets.”

“’Tension’?” Fynn asked as the innkeeper came and Sylvain ordered ale for himself as well.

Lena’s eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. All those two do is argue lately. Lukas is finally playing hard to get, and Moritz can’t stand that, you know how he likes to play that way himself. I heard them yelling when we came down. I didn’t stick around to hear anymore, but I bet it’s not the same kind of yelling right now.”

Fynn flushed a bright red; he looked down at his cup of water, and sipped without comment. Just then the innkeeper came back with bread, and Fynn eagerly began buttering a roll.

“I wonder if they’ll be worse, or better to deal with now,” Sylvain mused aloud as he chewed.

Lena shrugged. “It depends how in denial they are about their feelings. Just because they finally fuck doesn’t guarantee they’ll admit their real feelings.”

Fynn choked on his bread, and Sofie clapped him on the back. She gave Lena a look, but the other woman just shrugged unapologetically. Lena wasn’t anywhere near as blunt or vulgar as Sylvain had heard people be before, and he didn’t even bat an eye when she spoke. Sylvain suspected she was already being considerate of Fynn anyway.

“Have you written to Miss Beatrice, my Lord?” Fynn asked, in a clearly desperate attempt to change the subject.

Taking pity on the youngest of their party, Sylvain answered him. “I have. I told her to address any replies to Gautier, so when we return I’ll know if I’ve been bothering her with my nonsense.”

Twenty minutes later their food came, the fare was simple but flavourful, and no one had any complaints. It was far better than the dried meats, fruits, and hard bread they had to eat on the road. They passed the rest of the meal pleasantly, and even found that the innkeeper offered simple tarts for dessert. They had just received the pastries when Lukas and Moritz showed up looking flushed and rumpled.

All four of them turned knowing looks at the pair as they joined their table.

In a sweet voice that was highly uncharacteristic of her, Lena asked, “Oh my, what kept you?”

Later, when Sylvain was back in his room, he set about his nightly ritual of letter writing. He found suddenly now that he couldn’t speak to Felix face to face he had a stronger urge to talk with him, it seemed important somehow that he share everything that was happening with him. As he had mentioned to Fynn earlier, he had also been writing Beatrice. It felt still almost as if he were writing Dimitri or Ingrid.

Sylvain had yet to decide what he would do about his new acquaintance. Would he present her to his father as a possible marriage prospect or not? Either way, drawing closer to Gauiter was a double-edged sword. It meant finally seeing Felix again, but it also meant confronting Margrave’s threat of marriage.

Sooner or later Sylvain would have to decide, but for now, he put those thoughts aside, and wrote to his closest friend.

_Dear, Felix,_

_Time is strange, don’t you think? It feels as if it moves so slowly, and yet so quickly. After the war I felt time drag from spending it all in Gautier, and whenever I’m in Fraldarius it moves at least two times as quickly. During this trip it’s felt as if time has moved both slowly and quickly. It reminds me of our days in the academy. When I would dread the end of the year because it meant returning to Gautier, but it also meant more leisure time to spend with you._

_I am only a few days away from Fraldarius now._

When Sylvain was done he left the letter out to dry and got ready for bed. Then, he carefully folded and sealed it, and made his way back downstairs.

The fire in the common room was still burning, but he didn’t hear any voices or the sounds of movement. Sylvain moved quietly by nature, and so when he came to the landing his arrival went unnoticed, but Sylvain’s eye went immediately to the people still left in the common room.

Lena and Sofie sat by the fire. Lena was leaning in close to Sofie, she lifted her hand and brushed back Sofie’s hair, which was out of its usual braids, and pushed it gently behind her ear. Then, with a practiced ease, leaned down to kiss her.

Sylvain turned abruptly, and instead of walking back up the stairs, continued to the innkeeper’s office. He wasn’t sure why that seemed like the best course of action at the moment, but he went, and it must have been all his movement in background that finally alerted the two women to his presence, because they broke apart and turned to look at Sylvain just as he had made it back to the foot of the staircase. They looked at each other, all three of them frozen, and then Sylvain said, just loudly enough for them to hear, “Sorry for the disturbance. Good night.” And, hurried back upstairs.

Although he had suspected the real nature of their relationship for some time, Lena and Sofie had been careful about their interactions in front of everyone. They had made no mention of anything other than friendship between them, and Sylvain hadn’t been about to ask them if there was anything more, it really was none of his business either way.

In the morning Sylvain got ready as usual. He tried not to think about anything as he washed up and got dressed. As he sat on the bed tying his boots, a thought suddenly struck him. It came into his head suddenly that when he had written to Felix, he had addressed the letter, ‘Dear, Felix.’ The comma after ‘dear’ made it sound as if it were an endearment instead of a greeting. It was a stupid, inconsequential thing to panic over, but suddenly Sylvain was hastily lacing up his boots and hurrying out the door.

He found the innkeeper almost right away.

“Good morning my Lord!”

“Good morning,” Sylvain said in a rush, “Has the post gone out yet?”

“Oh yes, of course! Went out with the first light, my boy likes to get things done early! Never fear, my Lord, your letters are well on their way!”

Sylvain tried for a smile. “I see, thank you.”

There was nothing for it, Sylvain thought. It didn’t mean anything anyway, who in the world would notice an extra comma but Sylvain anyway? It was fine, and he was obviously just overreacting.

Soon after that they had their morning meal and settled the bill. Sylvain and his companions set out, there were no more than two days between himself and Felix now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise quick update?? I'm in self isolation AND I've been layed off, so I've got time to write now. I know I'm not the only one in this boat, and if you're rowing here with me, I'm sorry, I really feel you. I really do hope y'all are okay, please, please take care of yourselves and each other as much as possible! 
> 
> On a fic related note, next chapter is almost done, so that should be up soon. It does, like most of this fic, include some sex scenes, so look forward to it, lmao. For real though, it does have a scene I was dying to write, so I'm really happy we're finally here! We're also in the home stretch, fam, we've passed the half-way mark and I'll probably be updating the chapter count soon! 
> 
> Thanks for all your support, take care! <333


	8. Fleeting reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter yesterday, and made myself wait until today to edit and post. I love this chapter, brace yourselves. 
> 
> There's also way more sex than I intended, my bad, and you're welcome. 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 8!

Well, baby, I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
And love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

- _Hallelujah_ , Jeff Buckley

Sylvain wasn’t avoiding Lena and Sofie, at least not technically. He just happened to be busy whenever they were around, or suddenly remembered he needed to do something else when they occupied the same space. At the very least, Sylvain hadn’t meant to avoid them; he had simply done it. It was a childish, idiotic, kneejerk reaction, and he had felt bad about it the moment he had done it. So, it came as some relief when the night before they finally reached Fraldarius the women cornered him on the edge of their campsite.

“Ah, did you, uh, need something?” Sylvain asked, half-heartedly attempting to edge around the two women.

Sofie and Lena exchanged a look and Lena said flatly, “Don’t pretend, my Lord.”

Sylvain sighed, “If you’re going to scold me, at least call me Sylvain.”

The women exchanged another look, “Scold you?”

Sylvain looked between them, “I wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything like that! It was simply bad timing, I went to post a letter! I apologize!”

Sofie’s confused expression cleared first. “You thought that’s what we wanted to talk to you about?”

“Of course,” Sylvain replied, frowning, “What else would it be?”

Both women visibly relaxed. “Our relationship doesn’t concern you?” Sofie asked, a little tentatively.

Sylvain’s frown deepened. “Why would it? Just the other day we were teasing Moritz and Lukas, why would your being in a similar relationship ‘concern’ me?”

Lena let out a breath that was almost like a laugh, she nudged Sofie, and said, “I told you.”

Sofie smiled, and it was a little sad. “Not everyone reacts that way, we just didn’t know what to expect.” Now her smiled turned sweet. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

The women invited him for a drink, and they told Sylvain that their families had wanted to marry them off to different men, and instead of doing that; they ran off and became mercenaries.

“When we have enough money, we’ll retire,” Lena looked over at Sofie with a fond expression. “I’ll buy her a nice little workshop where she can invent and neglect me.”

“I’ve told you that would never happen!” Sofie replied heatedly, she was blushing.

“Experience tells me otherwise,” Lena replied dryly, taking a sip of mulled wine they were all sharing.

“You don’t regret your decision?” Sylvain asked after they had finished teasing each other, and passed him the wine.

The women exchanged another look, and Sofie answered. “Sometimes, I think it would have been best if we had confronted our families, told them point blank we would not do it, that we want only to be together, but…” she trailed off, shrugging, that same sad smile on her lips. “I don’t regret being with Lena.”

Sylvain nodded, he took a sip of the warm spiced wine and considered these two women. Marriages between same sex and same gendered couples weren’t uncommon, but they were almost unheard of in noble families. It was the problem of heirs that forced them into marriages with partners that could produce children. Sylvain thought about the kind of fight he would need to put up in order to win against Margrave. Even after everything he had been through, the man still made Sylvain feel small, he felt like a young, stupid, and helpless boy when his father stared him down. Ingrid had told him he was brave, but Sylvain wasn’t so sure. Any courage he showed on the battlefield disappeared when he stood in front of his father. Sylvain wasn’t sure he could stand up to him alone.

*

“Welcome, my Lord, we’ve been expecting you.”

Sylvain and his party were greeted as soon as they entered the courtyard of the Fraldarius keep. They clearly _had_ been expecting them; Sylvain thought they must have had lookouts watching for their arrival if there were attendants already in the courtyard. They all dismounted, and had the reins of their horses taken from them. When Sylvain tried to unbuckle the straps on his horse’s saddlebag, the young woman tending to his horse actually shooed him away.

“Oh, please, my Lord, don’t worry,” she was smiling. “I’ll take care of that for you. His Grace the Duke has told me to inform you that everything you’ll need is awaiting you in your quarters. I’ll have your things cleaned and sent up later.”

Surprised, Sylvain blinked. “Felix asked you to tell me this?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Confused, but not willing to question it further, Sylvain thanked her and went to his rooms. His companions were all being seen to, so Sylvain went without hesitation.

Unlike the most recent times Sylvain had visited, it was the middle of the day. There were plenty of people around, and everyone greeted him warmly. Sylvain didn’t have to think about which way he headed as he made his way to his rooms; he let his feet simply take him there.

His room was clean, and it smelled pleasantly of lavender. There were fresh flowers in vases that must have come from greenhouses, water in a basin for him to wash, towels, and all the toiletries he might need. There were even clothes laid out for him on an armchair in the bedroom. Sylvain looked around feeling suddenly very warm, his heart felt full.

While Sylvain washed he couldn’t help thinking about Felix ordering all this be done for him. It was a kind of thoughtful solicitousness that Felix would never show to Sylvain’s face.

The last couple of days had been rough, there wasn’t much between Galatea, and Fraldarius, even after the war the land was slow to develop. Sylvain washed away the grime of the road, luxuriating in the ability to wash his hair properly. The water wasn’t warm, it was tepid at best, but it was better than the ice water he had splashed on his face when on the road. The soap he was using had a soft lavender scent as well, Sylvain smiled to think he would be lightly perfumed when he was done.

When he was finished he wrapped himself in a robe and went back out into the bedroom. He had meant to get dressed right away and look for Felix, but knowing his friend he thought it was likely Felix would be busy the rest of the day. He most likely wouldn’t have made time for Sylvain until tomorrow, so he took the time to neatly trim his beard, he ran his fingers over the short bristles and found a honey scented oil to rub into it. Sylvain began leisurely looking through the books on the only bookcase in the room, and brought a few to the bed. Perhaps he would read a little, and then take a short nap.

As he sat and looked through the books, Sylvain heard the sound of a door being opened. He turned his head, he couldn’t see from his position but he knew it was the door to his quarters that had just been opened. Whoever had entered had not knocked; simply let themselves in, and seconds later Sylvain had confirmation of who would act with so much familiarity.

Felix stood at the door of his bedchamber. His dark hair was down, it was longer than Sylvain remembered, falling to the middle of his back, and it was unadorned save for the jade clasp holding the hair on the left side of his head back. He was dressed simply, without jacket or coat, a loose white shirt tucked into black trousers, he looked almost as he had at the academy.

They stared at each other, Felix looked at him in surprise.

“You look like an old man,” Felix said by way of greeting.

“Hello, Felix, I’ve missed you too.” Sylvain answered dryly as he stood.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then Felix walked forward. He stood in front of Sylvain and slowly reached out. Lifting a hand to Sylvain’s face, Felix cupped his jaw; he ran his thumb over the short hair there now. Sylvain watched him, unmoving, he felt as if any sudden movements might scare him off, which was ridiculous, because Felix was the most fearsome thing in any room.

Felix’s touch was soft, almost tentative, and when he finally brought his gaze up to meet Sylvain’s, Sylvain felt his heart begin to beat hard. The look in Felix’s eyes made him breathless.

“Get on the bed.”

Sylvain didn’t need telling twice. He went; practically tripping over his own feet in the handful of steps it took him to get there. He pushed the books he had left on his bed off, completely uncaring of the mess he was making. He moved to sit closer to the centre, and watched as Felix sat and began to take off his boots.

A moment later Felix turned, rose to his knees, and moved over to Sylvain, Sylvain felt his own breathing quicken. Felix was on his knees looking down at Sylvain, he slowly lowered himself onto Sylvain’s lap, and slid his hand up the inside of Sylvain’s thigh, the robe parting without resistance.

Felix’s hand was cool, but his touch was like fire. Sylvain was hard after the first stroke; he closed his eyes and groaned. Felix felt like the first breath of air after nearly drowning as much as he felt like the loss of air itself. It was so strange the way Felix made him feel complete, and yet somehow made him feel empty. It was as if the more Sylvain had of him, the more he needed.

He caught Felix’s hand, and opened his eyes again. He watched the uneven rise and fall of Felix’s chest before he looked him in the eye. “There’s something I’d like to try.”

Felix looked at him a moment, it seemed as if he couldn’t process Sylvain’s words right away. He frowned at Sylvain, “What?”

Sylvain wet his lips, “It’s – Do you trust me? It would be easier to show you. If you want me to stop, we will,” he added.

He could see the hesitation in Felix’s expression warring with something else. Finally, he nodded, and Sylvain smiled.

Reaching out, Sylvain began to unbuckle Felix’s belt. He pulled the belt out entirely, tossing it too onto the floor, and then unlaced his trousers. Felix let him, then made an impatient noise and unlaced his trousers himself. When he was done Sylvain pushed his trousers down to his knees.

“What – ?” Felix began, but Sylvain was already pressing him down onto the bed.

Felix let himself be pushed, but Sylvain could see from his expression that he wasn’t going to let himself be led blindly much longer. He reached over to the drawer where he had put away the small bottle of honey-scented oil and showed it to Felix. He watched as Felix blushed crimson.

“You can’t.” Felix blurted. He looked almost panicked, and for all his protest, he continued to lay there, hands up by his head, his body language still soft and open, he was breathing harder, and still decidedly erect.

Sylvain raised one eyebrow, and feigned ignorance, “I don’t know what you mean. Can’t what?” Felix looked at the bottle in Sylvain’s hand like it was a weapon of untold power. “This is for your thighs.”

Felix’s gaze jerked from the bottle back to Sylvain, he was frowning again, this time in confusion. His innocence could only be assumed, Sylvain thought, then felt himself soften. He wanted to tease Felix, but it didn’t seem fair when Sylvain was clearly holding all the cards at the moment.

He ran his hand over the inside of Felix’s thigh, back and forth, “Like that, let me show you.”

Again, Felix hesitated, but then nodded.

Sylvain felt his heart beat hard, his mind was already racing with the promise of the sensations to come, he had to pause and take a breath. He unstopped the bottle with only some difficulty. Sylvain spread some oil over the inside of Felix’s thighs, and then over his own hard cock. Putting the bottle aside he leaned down to whisper in Felix’s ear, “Turn on your side.”

He felt Felix shiver, and then elbow him in the stomach. Sylvain grunted, and then laughed breathlessly. Felix’s ear was red too.

“Bastard,” Felix muttered, but he did as he was asked.

“Push your hair over,” Sylvain gestured, he would do it himself, but he didn’t want to get oil in Felix’s hair. Felix gathered the hair Sylvain ached to bury his face in, and pushed it so it was in front of his body.

The tie holding Sylvain’s robe closed had loosened, it was mostly open, the tie a useless line across his exposed abdomen, but Sylvain didn’t even notice. Felix glanced over at him, his gaze swept down, and then away.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Felix snapped, and Sylvain smiled again.

He lowered himself down behind Felix, letting his hand run up the skin of his thigh and hip, then higher to push his shirt up.

It was like an embrace, Sylvain’s arms around Felix, he felt the other man’s body tense at the unfamiliar position, and Sylvain kissed his neck, unconsciously attempting to soothe him.

Softly, Sylvain said, “Keep your legs closed.”

Slowly, he pushed his cock between Felix’s hot oiled thighs.

Felix jerked in surprise, and Sylvain could almost picture the exact look of surprise and comprehension on his face in that moment.

He had done this exactly once before, and it had only occurred to him to try it with Felix while he was on the road. Sylvain had spent almost every night after that imagining what it might feel like to finally do it. He was not let down.

Without meaning to, he slowly pressed Felix onto his stomach, and the movement was easier, he could hold onto Felix’s hip with one hand, and stroke his cock with the other while Felix braced them both.

Even though he had been hesitant before, Felix was moving in time with him, his face was pressed into the pillow, and his gasps were muffled. Sylvain wished he had taken the time to undress him completely; he wanted to see the complete line of his back, all his pale skin under Sylvain’s gaze and hands.

It felt good, more than good. Their bodies fit so well together, the scent of honey hit Sylvain at intervals, it was as deliciously sweet as the sensation of skin to skin. Felix’s well-muscled thighs provided friction and heat, the way he moved, and the sounds he made told Sylvain Felix wanted this just as much as he did. Had Felix been dreaming of him too?

Sylvain’s hand worked in time with his hips, and he thought about how Felix seemed on the cusp of letting Sylvain penetrate him.

Sylvain’s hips stuttered, and then pushed hard, Felix made a sound that was not quite a cry, and suddenly Sylvain felt his hand. Felix had reached back, found Sylvain’s hand on his hip, and pressed his fingers between Sylvain’s. Sylvain’s heart felt too big for his chest, and he dropped his head to kiss Felix’s neck.

When Felix gasped again, it sounded suspiciously like Sylvain’s name.

He kept moving, feeling Felix begin to tremble under him, the first signs that he was close.

“Felix,” Sylvain whispered in his ear, “I missed you.”

Sylvain felt Felix’s body tense; he clutched Sylvain’s hand, and came.

They didn’t move for a moment, and Sylvain continued to kiss Felix’s neck as he waited for his partner to catch his breath. After a beat Felix turned his head, the jade clasp caught the light and winked at Sylvain, “You can keep going.”

Sylvain, who hadn’t yet climaxed, smiled into the skin of Felix’s neck.

He kept going.

Later, Sylvain lay on his back breathing hard. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from doing it twice more. He thanked the goddess for stamina, and core strength. Felix lay next to him, he was breathing a little more evenly, but was equally a mess. Sylvain’s robe had fallen to a tangle around his elbows, and was now really only covering his forearms. Felix’s trousers and stockings had found spots on the floor along with his belt.

When Sylvain turned his head to look at him he found Felix already looking back. He was still flushed, his pale skin coloured beautifully, his dark hair dishevelled, Sylvain’s mother’s clasp hanging loose but still in his hair, and his brown eyes looking at Sylvain in a way that made him want to push himself on top of Felix again.

“I suppose you did miss me.” Felix said, almost in his normal tone.

“I already told you that I did.”

Felix looked at him, and then tilted his head sceptically; “I doubt you found no one on the road that would have warmed your bed for you.”

His words were like a shard of ice piercing directly through Sylvain’s heart. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.” Sylvain didn’t say he had thought that was obvious, that he thought Felix had known that.

Clearly Felix had not, because surprise crossed his features, and then he looked away. Wordlessly, he got up and went to the bathing room.

Sylvain sat up, he felt as if he needed to make it clear there was no one other than Felix, but, a moment later Felix came back. He was holding a damp washcloth, and he went to Sylvain directly. When Sylvain tried to speak, Felix cut him off with a look.

He cleaned Sylvain off, gently, reminding Sylvain of when they were children and Felix wouldn’t let anyone else tend Sylvain’s scrapped knees. When he was done, Sylvain took the cloth from him, folded it to a clean side, and did the same for Felix. Felix sat on the edge of the bed, so Sylvain got up, and then down on his knees in front of him, tenderly cleaning the mess he had left on the inside of Felix’s thighs. He bent his head, and softly kissed the skin there.

He couldn’t resist looking up at Felix in that moment. His brown eyes were dark and intent on Sylvain, his hair fell around his shoulders in waves as black as pitch. It physically hurt Sylvain how beautiful he was.

Sylvain kissed his thighs again, and glanced back up. Felix was still watching him, and Sylvain moved his mouth up. He felt Felix’s fingers thread themselves in his hair, Sylvain had thought he was finally sated, but he felt another rush of desire when he took Felix’s cock in his mouth.

Much later Sylvain found that he had fallen asleep. He woke blinking in the muted light. The sun had all but set, and a lamp had been lit. Someone had thrown the blanket over him, and picked up the things that had been carelessly tossed to the floor. Sylvain sat up slowly, pulling his robe properly closed, his head spun, he hadn’t had enough water to drink.

Going over to the small service table in the corner, Sylvain caught the sound of movement from the bathing room. He poured himself some water and went over to listen again.

“Felix?” Sylvain called out feeling ridiculous, surely he had already left.

“What?” Sylvain leaned back in surprise at the sound of Felix’s voice. “If you need a bath, you’ll have to wait, there’s no room for you in here.”

Sylvain began walking before he could think about it. He found Felix sitting in the copper tub Sylvain had used earlier; he fit in it only slightly better than Sylvain had.

Felix shot him a look, “I told you, you need to wait.” He sat with his knees up; his hair was piled up on top of his head and twisted so the jade clasp could keep it secure, he gave Sylvain a look of annoyance. “Your beard stings.”

It took Sylvain a moment to process his words. The picture Felix made was so delightfully domestic his brain had trouble switching gears from imagining scrubbing his back, and pouring water over all that white skin, to understanding Felix’s words.

There were bright red marks on Felix’s neck and shoulders, and he couldn’t see because Felix’s knees were bent, but Sylvain guessed there were marks on his thighs as well.

“Oh,” said Sylvain eloquently, “Sorry.”

Felix jerked his head to the pile of towels to Sylvain’s left. “Make yourself useful,” he said.

Wordlessly, Sylvain went and passed him a clean towel. Felix stepped out of the basin, and as he dried off said, “You may want to ask for more clean water,” and then left the room. Sylvain was left standing there, staring at the spot Felix had just occupied.

When he went back out a moment later, Felix had already pulled on most of his clothing. It looked wrinkled, and like it had been slept in, but Felix didn’t seem phased.

The room was darker than it had been a moment ago; night had fallen fully.

“Wait,” Sylvain said suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “We spent most of the day together.”

Felix looked at him as if Sylvain were a particularly slow service animal. “Do you have a point, or are you simply making an observation?”

“I thought – “ Sylvain broke off. Felix raised his eyebrows, but Sylvain didn’t know how to explain he had been so sure Felix wouldn’t make time for him. He shook his head slowly. “Tomorrow, I need to speak with you about the state of your city.”

“Yes,” said Felix. “I’ll see you then,” he gathered his remaining things, and left.

He left Sylvain standing there, his thoughts whirling.

The next morning Sylvain shaved. He really did look much younger this way.

He was making his way down to breakfast with Fynn and Lukas when he was suddenly shoved hard against the wall. Blinking in surprise, Sylvain found himself staring into the furious dark eyes of his best friend.

“You _asshole_ ,” Felix said in a low venomous whisper, “You left marks _everywhere.”_ Felix looked like he was close to throttling him. He shoved him hard again, Sylvain’s head cracked against the wall, and then stormed off.

Sylvain just had time to register the fact that Felix had a scarf tied very snuggly around his neck. He felt himself blush.

Felix was very obviously angry with him. Absolutely no one dared ask Felix about his new sudden desire to accessorize, and Sylvain did his best to keep his head down. Sylvain could tell his companions knew Felix’s mood was his doing, and at least some if not most of them probably suspected the nature of their relationship, but they didn’t say anything about it either.

Felix was short with him throughout their entire meeting, and the members of the council that were there with them kept shooting Sylvain sympathetic looks. Despite this, no one said anything to Felix to try and deflect some of the heat off Sylvain, which was probably smarter, if Sylvain was being honest.

When they were done Felix demanded he come with him to the training room and Sylvain felt as if his time had come. In his mind he said a silent thank you to his friends who had been his true family, and bid them goodbye. He hoped Ingrid would come and take care of his horse when he was gone, she would spoil Fenris with apples, and he would be happy.

Felix tossed him a sword, threw off his coat, and waited for Sylvain to similarly unencumber himself before he struck.

Sylvain was no stranger to Felix’s fighting style; he was probably the only person who knew Felix’s style about as well as Felix’s own instructor, but sword fighting was not his strong suit. It was all Sylvain could do to defend.

It was only after a few exchanges that Sylvain realized Felix was angry about something other than the marks Sylvain had left on his skin. The scarf was still bound tightly around Felix’s neck, but the violence in him felt like something more than simple annoyance. That was what had made Felix snap at him earlier, this, these savage blows that were a hair’s breadth from impaling Sylvain, this was borne of something else.

“Felix,” Sylvain tried, “what – “

Felix moved with a speed Sylvain could only react to instinctively, he brought his sword up, and felt the blade pushed close to his own chest as Felix stepped right in front of him, pushing his blade close to Sylvain’s face.

“Shut. Up.”

His voice was low and dangerous, and Sylvain didn’t say anything else. He let himself be pushed back, and absorbed blow after blow of Felix’s sword.

It was only a matter of time before Felix disarmed him. Sylvain’s sword was flung from his grasp, and Sylvain himself had been corned, his back pressed against the wall. They had moved out of the sand pit, Sylvain jumping out in an effort to evade Felix, but now here he was, the sword pressed to his throat, he could feel the edge of the blade biting at the sensitive skin of his throat.

Sylvain lifted his hands, and tried not to breathe too hard. Felix’s gaze was locked on his, and neither of them moved, they simply looked at each other. Felix was so close, Sylvain could feel his breath on his face; he was braced against Sylvain, his forearm holding Sylvain against the wall. Sylvain didn’t do anything, he watched Felix, and waited.

The tension between them was not just violent, and Sylvain didn’t miss the way Felix’s gaze dropped from Sylvain’s eyes to his mouth. Felix’s breathing had not evened out, and neither had Sylvain’s. Felix’s gaze snapped back to Sylvain’s eyes, he made a noise of utter frustration, moved a fraction back from Sylvain, and flung his sword down. Sylvain thought for one glorious and exciting moment that Felix would kiss him.

He didn’t. Instead, Felix dropped to his knees, and there, in the training room, where anyone could walk in and find them, Felix pulled Sylvain’s trousers open, and engulfed his cock in the exquisite, wet heat of his mouth.

Surprised, and more aroused than he had ever been in his life, Sylvain groaned, and threw his head back. It cracked against the wall for the second time that day because of Felix.

Felix’s hand gripping the material of his trousers, the other touching him, the feel of his tongue swirling, the wet sound of Felix’s mouth, and the pure sensation of the act made the encounter much quicker than Sylvain wanted. He was on the edge far too soon, but he couldn’t help himself, and Felix didn’t give him time to regain any composure.

This was only the second time Felix had done this for him. It wasn’t finessed, Sylvain had experience with partners who clearly had practice, but it didn’t matter. It was the fact of Felix himself doing this, it was the urgency that communicated itself to him; it was the sun in his heart engulfing him in heat.

“Fe – lix,” Sylvain choked out in warning, seconds before climax hit. His vision went white, and he could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears.

He registered movement far slower than he would have if his senses were not orgasm addled. Opening his eyes, Sylvain saw Felix was already standing, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, gave Sylvain a burning look, then turned, threw on his jacket, and left the room.

Sylvain thought vaguely that he wished Felix would stop doing that. Clumsily, he tied his trousers closed again, picked up his own jacket, and with a feeling that was part guilt, part exhilaration, hurried out.

That night Felix came back to his room after spending the rest of the day avoiding him, and they fell on each other without even an attempt to make it to the bed.

“If you ever leave any marks on me again where others can see,” Felix warned him as he pushed Sylvain onto his back late into the night, when they finally found their way to the bedchamber. “I’ll see that Gautier has no heir, do you understand me?”

Sylvain gasped, his trousers were lying somewhere in his sitting room, and his hard leaking cock was held firmly in Felix’s grasp, “ _Yes_ ,” he managed to get out.

The next morning Sylvain woke with his eyes burning from lack of sleep, and his body pleasantly sore from the activities that had kept him awake.

He couldn’t remember Felix leaving his room, he had a vague memory of Felix falling asleep next to him, but when he opened his eyes, he found he was alone. Sitting up, Sylvain realized that while he was alone, there was something in his room that had not been there the night before.

Placed neatly on the pillow beside him, where Sylvain was almost positive Felix had slept, was a carefully folded woollen cloak, and a jade brooch set in gold. Sylvain picked up the brooch and ran his thumb over the cool stone; it was in the shape of a tree. He ran his hand over the cloak, it was soft, and dyed a lovely teal colour.

It wasn’t as good as waking up to Felix beside him, but it was a very close second.

That morning at breakfast Sylvain could not stop smiling. His companions teased and cajoled him, but Sylvain would not explain the source of his happiness. It felt as if his joy radiated out from him, as if he must be throwing off light from how strongly the sun in his chest beamed.

Felix was busy all day, but Sylvain didn’t mind. To him it didn’t read as indifference or annoyance, it seemed to Sylvain as if Felix was being shy.

Throughout the day Sylvain kept remembering the tapestry of colour that was Felix’s body. Dark hair, pale white skin, and red bruises where Sylvain kissed him.

_‘If you ever leave any marks on me again where others can see…’_ So, it was only an issue if they were visible. Sylvain smiled, and almost missed a step as he went down the staircase.

Late that evening, while Felix worked through dinner and Sylvain had yet to catch even a glimpse of him, he went out to the stables. The weather was bitingly cold now. They were in true winter, and on top of his usual layers, Sylvain wore the cloak gifted to him secured with the jade brooch.

He hummed as he brushed Fenris’ glossy coat, not even noticing the tune he hummed was one often played during celebrations. For once Sylvain’s thoughts were pleasantly still, nothing bothered him, nothing turned over and over in his mind; he was just wonderfully present in the moment.

“Still on the wings of a dragon, my Lord?”

Sylvain startled, he hadn’t noticed Fynn coming into the stables. The young man tried to apologize, but Sylvain laughed at his own reaction and waved the apologies away.

“I suppose I am in a good mood,” said Sylvain, grinning.

Fynn smiled back. “I’ve been enjoying my time here as well,” he said, “Although I am eager to finally end my days spent trudging through the snow, I will miss this.” Fynn gestured vaguely, and Sylvain nodded in understanding.

“It has been a far more pleasant experience than I ever expected,” Sylvain agreed, “Expect for the weather, of course. But, I will be sorry to see you all go.”

“Lena and Sofie may leave, they go where the work takes them, but the rest of us will be in Gautier still, my Lord.”

“But it won’t be the same.”

Fynn smiled sadly, “No, my Lord, I suppose it won’t be.”

They were silent for a moment, and Fynn busied himself with taking care of his own horse, a lovely speckled mare.

“Well,” said Fynn after a moment, “At least you have all those letters to look forward to.”

Sylvain, who had put the brush away and fetched dried sweet grass for his horse, replied absently, “Hmm?”

“All the letters from Miss Beatrice, my Lord,” Fynn clarified. “I overheard Lena and Sofie say that you’ve been thinking about courting her. From what I came to know of her, I think she’d be a lovely match. You two seemed to get along so well, I think she would be a wonderful wife, my Lord.”

Sylvain looked up then, but his eyes slid from Fynn to a figure that stood just outside the stables. He felt his heart stop, Felix stood there, he was just too far, and too much in shadow for Sylvain to see his expression clearly, but he couldn’t miss the tension in his posture. In the next second, Felix turned on his heel and left.

Fynn turned as well, and then looked back at Sylvain, “My Lord?”

“Take this, please,” Sylvain was hurrying out of Fenris’ stall and handing Fynn the dried grass over the gate of the neighbouring stall, without looking away from Felix’s retreating figure.

“Yes, of course, but what – “

Sylvain didn’t even reply, as soon as his hands were empty, he took off.

Felix had moved quickly, and Sylvain hesitated when he made it into the side entrance, he didn’t see his friend anywhere. He deliberated a moment, and then headed for the training room.

As he predicted, his friend was already tossing his jacket off and picking up a sword, he didn’t turn to Sylvain when he entered, but he had clearly noticed him. “Get out,” Felix said, no inflection, just loudly enough for his voice to carry.

“No, not until you talk to me.”

Felix ignored him; he jumped down into the sand pit and turned his back on Sylvain. He started to engage an invisible opponent.

“Felix, listen.” Sylvain began, but he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He had a vague idea about what had upset Felix, but he wasn’t sure, and assuming felt dangerous at this point. “I – I didn’t get a chance to say it before, thank you, for the gifts.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Felix swung around violently, leaping out of the pit and pointing his sword to Sylvain’s chest.

“Pick up a weapon,” he growled.

“No.”

Surprised and angered, Felix pressed on Sylvain’s chest with the sword, Sylvain was more worried for the cloak than he was for his own safety.

“I said pick up a weapon.”

“I said, no.”

They glared at each other. Then, Felix took a step back, tossed his sword aside, and swung at Sylvain with his fist. Reacting on pure instinct, Sylvain just dodged a blow to his jaw.

“Felix, what the hell – !”

He was cut off when another swing came close to his nose this time. Just like Sylvain was no swordsman, he wasn’t a brawler either. He put his hands up, trying to remember the basics of what he had been taught in the academy, and did his best not to get knocked out.

Felix’s fist connected with his shoulder, and Sylvain stumbled back, just barely managing to move out of the reach of the next swing.

“Felix, just – “ Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge. “ _Talk to me_!”

A blow to his stomach made Sylvain double over. He looked up at Felix who stood over him, furious.

“Why?” Felix demanded. “You go on and on, you say the most inane things, but you don’t tell me anything either.” He clenched his jaw. “Get out. Leave Fraldarius. Go back to Gautier, marry that girl, and never come back here.”

More than his fists, Felix’s words sent Sylvain reeling.

“I – what – “

“Are you deaf?” Felix’s fists were clenched at his sides, he was shaking, and the look in his eyes, though burning with anger, had something else in it that looked to Sylvain almost like pain. “I said get out. I’m sick of looking at you.”

Sylvain straightened, and when he took a step forward, Felix stepped back.

“You have what you came for, now leave. You are not welcome here anymore.”

He turned, and when Sylvain caught his hand, Felix turned back, and hit him. This time, his fist made contact with the side of Sylvain’s face. He let go, and stumbled back, when he regained his footing, he caught a glimpse of Felix’s back as he left the room.

Back in his quarters Sylvain pressed ice wrapped in soft cloth to his face. At least there was an abundance of ice for his use at the moment. He paced his sitting room, his mind racing.

Felix must have overheard his conversation with Fynn, and that had clearly been what had triggered his outburst. But why would he be upset about Fynn’s opinions? Sylvain had not said a word in agreement, and anyway they had talked of their potential marriage prospects before, why was this different?

Sylvain went over to a window; he could just make out the white fields of snow through his own reflection.

Why? Why had he reacted so strongly this time? Sylvain tried to remember what little Felix had actually said to him.

_‘You go on and on, you say the most inane things, but you don’t tell me anything either.’_

With a sudden jolt Sylvain realized he had never said anything to Felix about Beatrice. He had told him about Byron, her father, about the time they spent in the house, but he hadn’t said anything more than they had a daughter who reminded him a little of Ingrid. He hadn’t told Felix that he wrote her regularly, that he _had_ considered the possibility of courting her. He hadn’t told Felix that, more than anything, Beatrice felt like another sister.

Without another thought Sylvain left his room and made for Felix’s chambers. The door was unlocked, and Sylvain strode right in. It was quiet and still, right away Sylvain could tell no one was there, but he walked through his rooms anyway.

He found them all empty, and went back out into the hall. He tried to think, where would Felix go? He didn’t think he would go back to the training room at this point, but where else was there for Felix?

Sylvain looked. He went to the kitchens, back out to the stables, to the training room, to the library, the greenhouse, the dinning hall, he looked in the audience chamber, each place more unlikely than the next, and found no sign of him. The household staff he passed couldn’t give him any information on Felix’s whereabouts either, and after a fruitless search, Sylvain returned to his rooms.

He tried to sleep, and couldn’t. He tossed and turned, their argument playing over in his mind, the ache from the hits he took hardly even an itch compared to the pain in his heart.

When morning finally came, Sylvain got ready quickly, and then went out to wait by Felix’s door. When a maid finally came to tidy his room, Sylvain stopped her.

“Where is Felix?”

She looked at him startled, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the bruise blooming on the side of his face. “He’s not here, my Lord.”

“What?”

“The Duke left just before first light. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, my Lord.”

Sylvain didn’t even remember to thank her, just turned, and went back to his room. He took out the gift he had brought for Felix, that he hadn’t yet had a chance to give him, and went back to the maid to ask that she see he get it. Going back to his rooms, Sylvain began to pack his things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I HAVE BEEN GIFTED ART OF FELIX WITH THE HAIR CLASP! PLEASE LOOK AT IT! Find it on [maximus.artimus](https://www.instagram.com/maximus.artimus/)'s account [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-8GC96JL3S/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)!
> 
> I didn't totally mean to end this on a kind of cliffhanger ending, but this feels good to me, lmao. Next chapter has Felix POV, so get ready for a lot of emotion from a guy who never learned how to deal with any of it. 
> 
> And, cuz I haven't done this in a while, you can find me on [tumblr](nightofviolet.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/snow_falls4)!
> 
> Take care, y'all, see you in the next chapter!!! <333


	9. Fever dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter has the one scene that came into my head that prompted this whole thing. 48k+ words to satisfy my muse :')
> 
> Thanks so much for all your support and please enjoy chapter 9!

When you're lovers in a dangerous time  
Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime --  
But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight --  
Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight

- _Lovers in a Danergous Time_ , Bruce Cockburn

Felix wrapped the musty picnic blanket he had found in the kitchen around himself, leaned his head back against hard stone, and closed his eyes. He had been so full of furious energy only moments ago, but as Felix sat there in the bowels of his family’s catacombs, he felt only lethargy.

It was cold, but Felix almost didn’t notice. He sat on the platform base of the larger than life statue of his brother. He hadn’t come here after his brother had been buried, it was only recently, with no family left to talk to, that he had come here and tried to sort out his feelings at his brother’s grave. But, of course, no matter how many times he asked Glenn for advice, Felix received none, and consequently seemed to only make bad decisions.

Because, of course, this was all his fault.

Felix had spent years training, but his willpower crumbled at the first real test. In all his unfounded arrogance Felix had thought he had turned his heart to tempered steel, solid, and strong. But, that clearly wasn’t true. His heart was more like brittle iron, which explained why it seemed to shatter at the lightest touch.

_‘Felix, I missed you.’_

Making a small noise of frustration, Felix opened his eyes. The catacombs were lit dimly; only the torches Felix had passed were lit at all. He had hoped here, down with the spirits of the dead, he would finally be somewhere thoughts of Sylvain couldn’t haunt him.

He had spent all day, everyday since Sylvain had arrived, thinking about him. No matter what he did or who he was with, there was some part of his mind that kept replaying their time together. Whether it was the feel of Sylvain’s hands on him, the soft way he looked at Felix, or the way he said his name, Felix relived it all on an endless loop, unable to stop himself from eagerly awaiting the moment they could be together again.

Vaguely, Felix wished he could be more like Sylvain. He wished he had the ability to take just anyone to bed. That his heart and his body weren’t so closely aligned, then he could go into the city and find someone to finally take his mind off of Sylvain. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stand the smell of lavender or honey again.

If he could, Felix would cut out the part of his heart that longed for Sylvain. Of course, that was impossible, not only because he clearly couldn’t control his feelings, but because it was too late for that, Sylvain already had his whole heart.

Felix pulled his knees up. There wasn’t much room on the platform, but Felix had come here often to wallow where there was no one to see just how vulnerable he was. So, he adjusted, and pressed his forehead to his knees. He had tried so hard to be more like his brother, he remembered Glenn’s cool aloofness, his sharp tongue, and his strength, but Felix was still that soft hearted boy who couldn’t stop himself from chasing after Sylvain’s bright smile.

****

His eyes stung, and his heart hurt. Felix was tired in his soul.

He thought about all the correspondence with Dimitri and Byleth he had collected over the last few months. All the work he had done since he had gone to Gloucester, his resolve, and his budding hopes. It was passed time he face reality however. Regardless of what his relationship with Sylvain had seemed like, or how much Felix wanted, it had clearly just been his own desires that had carried him away. He did everything he told himself not to, and now he had only himself to pick up the pieces and put things back together, whatever was left.

Felix hardly felt the time pass, but on his way here he had taken a few things from the kitchens, including someone’s pocket watch. It was late, or very early. The sun rose later now that they were in full winter, but Felix decided it was a good time to set out. Felix was going to go to the guard’s wing, collect spare gear and set out. Where, it didn’t matter, he just had to be away, preferably somewhere he could fight and not think.

**

****

The journey back to Gautier was the worst part of their travels by far. Not only was Sylvain in a miserable mood, but the temperature had dropped quite a bit. It was windy now as well, and the land they crossed through was flat, providing no shelter. They had to cover every inch of their skin, and even wear special spectacles to protect their eyes.

Everyone knew Sylvain was both unhappy and irritable. Sofie had tried, gently, to ask why they were suddenly rushing to leave the morning after Sylvain’s fight with Felix, but Sylvain had snapped that he just needed them to do as he said. No one had asked anything more, and though they shot him worried looks, none of them had tried to ask him what had happened again.

Sylvain was tired, he was heartbroken, cold down to his bones, and he felt guilty for taking it out on his companions. Sofie had not deserved that he speak to her like that. He was surprised Lena hadn’t swung at him and given him a matching bruise for the other side of his face.

When they finally arrived in Gautier, late in the evening, Sylvain spoke up as they all dismounted.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, and they all turned to look at him. He couldn’t make out their expressions, and no one could see his. Sylvain took off the spectacles and uncovered his face. Cold bit at his skin, but he ignored it. “I wanted to say you have all been integral on this trip, invaluable, and you’ve made an otherwise dull journey a worthwhile experience. Thank you, and,” he took a breath, “I apologize for today.”

Sofie uncovered her face too, her braids spilling out, and smiled gently at him. “It’s been our pleasure to travel with you. Even though this is the end of our contract, it’s not the end of our friendship. We’re here for you, Sylvain.”

Sylvain swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat.

As they stabled their horses Fynn came to speak to him. He looked anxious, “My Lord, did I – did I say anything untoward last eveing? It wasn’t my intention, please forgive me.” He spoke in a rush.

He hadn’t blamed Fynn for anything, it was Sylvain’s own fault that things had fallen out as they had.

“You didn’t, there’s nothing to forgive,” Sylvain replied, meaning it.

Fynn looked like he might cry.

“Come,” said Moritz, suddenly at his other side. “Let’s all get out of his cursed cold, and let’s get you some salve, my Lord.”

Once inside they let the staff take their things and went to the mess hall. Moritz had procured for him a salve for his bruised face; it smelled like honey, and the sense memory of the smell made Sylvain’s heart throb painfully.

“You don’t wish to speak of it?” Moritz asked, and didn’t wait for Sylvain to answer. They weren’t sitting at a table; they had all pulled chairs and benches around the fire and sat there. They were all surely as chilled as Sylvain still was. Servants had brought in food and drinks, and they all had cups of warm mulled wine. “Very well, leave the talking to me, my Lord!”

Lukas groaned loudly, and Moritz shoved him off the edge of the bench they both sat on.

It made Sylvain laugh a little, and set the tone for the night. Though they were all tired and cold, they sat around drinking, eating, and laughing. Moritz and Lukas were like a comedy duo, they had a rapport that never missed a beat, and once Fynn had finished his mug of wine his witty remarks had them all in stitches.

After a few more mugs of wine, and one or two more tumbles off benches and chairs, they all made their way to their rooms.

Sylvain, who was very definitely drunk, walked to his room with Lukas’s help.

When they made it to Sylvain’s room, Lukas helped him take off his boots, and unbidden, Sylvain thought of Felix. He remembered another time he had been drinking, months ago, when Felix had knelt in front of him, in the dim light of his room. He could still see the way the lamplight had turned his brown eyes gold.

“I miss him,” Sylvain muttered, closing his eyes and feeling his head spin slightly. He felt Lukas pull off one boot and then work on the other. “I miss him. When I think about him, it hurts,” Sylvain touched his chest. He was sitting on his bed, clumsily attempting to pull his jacket off. “I don’t want to marry anyone. If it’s not him – if it’s not him then – then – “ Lukas pulled off the other boot, and the movement made Sylvain sway.

Sylvain heard Lukas sigh, and thought he began to say anything, but Sylvain closed his eyes, and didn’t open them again until morning.

Margrave was not impressed with the fading bruise on Sylvain’s cheek, or the obvious hangover he was nursing, but he had done what he set out to do, and had come back in a somewhat timely manner, so he only gave Sylvain a short lecture on decorum.

Not a word of it made it to Sylvain, but he stood there silently as his father spoke. Finally, however, he did get Sylvain’s attention.

“A merchant by the name of Byron Beaumont wrote to me while you were away,” Margrave said and he gestured to a letter that sat on his desk. Sylvain left a prickle of unease. “He sends his thanks to you for leaving his family gifts after your stay and wrote to praise me on my worthy Gautier heir,” Margrave smiled a little. “He informed me that you got along quite well with his daughter, and assured me any formal relationship between you two has his approval. It has mine as well. From what I gather they are fairly well off and set to become even more prosperous. Court the Beaumont girl, you have five weeks of courtship, I think that’s reasonable enough since you’re already acquainted, and then you may propose. I’ll have my assistant send you a list of acceptable gifts during your courtship. Once that’s done we’ll speak again about marriage arrangements.” His smile turned wry, “Despite expectations, you seem to have done a good job.”

Sylvain seemed to hear the words distantly. It was as if they were being spoken to someone else, and the panic, anger, frustration, or even sadness he expected to feel when finally forced to marry didn’t come. Instead he felt numb, Sylvain was burnt out, perhaps at a later time those emotions and more would make themselves known, but at the moment he felt nothing. Nothing moved in him.

So, he said nothing in reply, simply bowed to his father, and took his leave.

*

Eventually Sylvain wrote to Felix again, and again, and again. Everyday for three weeks he wrote and received nothing in reply. Until finally he did.

On that day he received two important pieces of news. The first came as a letter with the Fraldarius crest sealing it shut. So eager was Sylvain to open this that he did not notice the hand that had addressed it was not the one he was hoping for.

It wasn’t from Felix, but his steward. He wrote to Sylvain to inform him that the Duke was not currently in Fraldarius, and they had no clear date on when he would return. So, Sylvain’s letters sat unopened, and they had no way of delivering them to their intended recipient. But, the steward promised to inform Sylvain of when Felix returned when he knew.

He was currently into the fourth week of the allotted courtship time his father had given him. In that time Sylvain had finally admitted to himself that all his misgivings about marriage wasn’t because he didn’t want to marry, it was that he didn’t want to marry anyone but Felix.

What he was doing now felt like a gamble, waiting until the last possible moment to place his bet. There were so many ways his future could play out, different combinations of easy and hard choices, all of them with mixed results, and Sylvain wasn’t sure anything was worth the effort if the result wasn’t Felix in his future.

The second piece of news Sylvain received was that there was unrest on the Sreng boarder. There had been small skirmishes in the past couple weeks, but it was escalating, and Sylvain would need to go out himself to take stock of the situation, and hopefully put an end to it.

So, the day after he had received these bits of news, he set out for the boarder with a troop of soldiers. The only good thing to be said about this was that it postponed his courtship, and he set out with some familiar faces, Lena, Sofie, and Lukas were joining him.

It took most of the day to reach the encampment by the boarder; they had to move slowly in the snow, but they managed to get there before the sunset.

When the captain stationed in the encampment spotted them she came over to greet them.

“Good evening, my Lord, it’s a relief to see you.”

Sylvain frowned at her, though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see his expression. “’Relief’? Is it really so bad?”

“The situation isn’t dire,” she answered, and glanced back at one of the tents. “That’s not to what I was referring, my Lord. I meant now that you’ve arrived we’ll have someone who can persuade the Duke from charging in alone.”

Sylvain had begun walking with the Captain toward the tents, and then suddenly stopped. She stopped too, and looked back at him questioningly. “My Lord?”

“The Duke? Felix is here?”

“Yes, my Lord, the Duke of Fraldarius arrived here just this morning.”

“Where is he?” Sylvain asked, his voice came out breathless with how hard his heart was pounding.

She pointed to one of the tents, slightly bigger than the others, and Sylvain strode forward, throwing a hasty, “Thank you, Captain,” over his shoulder as he went.

He rapped on the material of the tent entrance, a kind of animal hide for insulation, and heard Felix’s voice, muffled, answer him. “Enter.”

Sylvain went in. Felix sat on the pelts piled on the floor of his tent; he was bent over his sword, in the process of sharpening the edge. He didn’t look up when Sylvain entered, but ran the whetstone over the edge with an ease that spoke of familiarity, and years of practice. He was wearing the coat Sylvain had seen him in almost every day during the war, but the thing that struck Sylvain the most was Felix’s hair. He had cut it. It was up in a messy ponytail at the back of his head, but Sylvain could tell the length was shorter, when unbound it would probably fall to just below his shoulders.

When Sylvain failed to muster up even a greeting, Felix looked up. Surprise coloured his expression for just a moment, and then he looked resigned. Well, they were in Gautier; he must have been expecting Sylvain would show up eventually.

“What do you want?” Felix asked brusquely, turning back to his sword, his motion more forceful, Felix worked engaging more of his arm and back muscles.

Sylvain took a breath, and tried not to let Felix’s words or attitude sting. “I think the better question is, what are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I heard there was a fight breaking out here, so I came. To fight.”

“Came from where? Where have you been, Felix? Your steward doesn’t even know where his Duke is!”

“I have no reason to tell you.” Felix finally paused, and looked up at Sylvain. “Send me away if you wish, this is your land after all. But, if you came only to pester me with your inane questions, spare me. I have better things to do.”

Sylvain clenched his jaw. It had been some time since he had seriously been out of sorts with Felix. After Glenn had been killed in the Tragedy of Duscar, they had gotten into fights all the time. Some of them resulted in them exchanging blows, but since they had gone to the academy together, they had hardly ever seriously fought. Sylvain had forgotten how stubborn and frustrating Felix could be. He had forgotten how his words were weapons too, and they cut just as precisely as his sword.

“Don’t do anything without my say so. If you stay, you stay under my command.” Felix glared at him, and Sylvain could tell he was about to argue, so Sylvain continued before Felix could cut in. “You said so yourself, you are in my lands. Gautier’s boarder is mine to protect. You remain at my pleasure, so you’ll do as I say, or you won’t remain at all.”

Felix’s dark eyes narrowed. They stared each other down, and Sylvain refused to budge.

“Fine,” Felix finally snapped, turning back to his sword. “If that’s all, see yourself out.”

“We set out at first light tomorrow,” Sylvain said, by way of farewell, and exited Felix’s tent.

Once outside Sylvain took a deep breath, and then let it out.

Sylvain went to find the Captain, and got a more thorough break down of the situation. There had been raids on the boarder settlements, and so the soldiers had come out to try and put a stop to them. The Captain told him about the specific details, and that so far there had been several injured civilians and one casualty.

“There must be someone in charge, whoever they are we need to speak with them. We need to know what the root of the problem is. Are they raiding out of necessity, or are they simply doing it to cause us problems? The former we can deal with without the use of weapons, which would be preferable.” Sylvain said. They had gathered in his tent, the largest of the bunch. He had a small table set up with a map of the area, and markers showing the places the raiders had hit. The Captain, and Sylvain’s guard listened intently as he spoke. They all nodded when he was done.

“It would be nice to solve this with words,” the Captain replied a little wearily, “We’ve had quite enough fighting as it is.”

“Yes,” Sylvain agreed. “Tomorrow, at first light, we go out to meet them.”

Taking that as a dismissal, they left. Sylvain tidied up, and then sat on the bedroll he had not yet properly laid out. It was early still, though the sun had already set. Sylvain took out some of the work he had brought with him, and began to go over reports he had been given the night before.

As he worked he kept seeing Felix’s bent figure, he thought about his shorn hair. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had managed to run his fingers through Felix’s unbound hair, and he regretted not doing that more often.

He wondered if something had happened to him that had made him cut it. Something in the time no one knew where he was or what he had been doing.

Sylvain crossed out a sentence he had been writing, reading it over he found it made no sense, and sighed. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately; maybe he should turn in early and try to get some rest. Putting his things away, Sylvain laid out the bedroll. He took off his armour but kept the under padding on, as was common practice when they were on the field.

Despite the fact that he and Felix were still at odds, it was comforting to know he was close by, and that he was okay. Sylvain closed his eyes, and slept.

He was woken abruptly by noise; voices shouting. He had exactly one second to let himself feel panic and disorientation, and then he jumped up, throwing on only a leather jerkin before hastily pulling on his coat. Lance in hand, he rushed out.

There were soldiers running out of tents, all of them in various states of battle readiness. Sylvain could see smoke coming from the other end of the encampment. There were guards posted on patrol, but they must have been avoided or subdued, because only now did someone come looking for him.

“My Lord!” The soldier sounded out of breath. “The Captain sent me to fetch you!”

Sylvain turned his head to his left. “Have you seen Felix?”

The soldier nodded vigorously. “Yes, my Lord, he was patrolling the other end of the camp when the attack happened, he ran right over!”

Sylvain cursed. He should have known Felix would never actually wait for Sylvain’s say so to do anything.

“Make sure everyone is out of their tents, if this fire catches the tents will go up in a blaze, grab as many men as can be spared to put it out, I’m heading to the fray.”

“Yes, my Lord!”

Just then Lena, Sofie, and Lucas appeared. They had more armour on than the other soldiers Sylvain had yet seen, and they looked more alert too.

“We came to get you, my Lord.”

Sylvain didn’t even reply, he just gestured that they should follow him, and then broke out into a run. The camp wasn’t very big, but it had been a little more spaced out precisely to avoid the spread of fire if anything should happen. As they got closer to the source, Sylvain could hear the sounds of battle. His heart rate picked up, and suddenly they broke a line of tents and were there.

The fire was bigger here, it had caught on to six tents, and his soldiers here had clearly had time only to grab weapons and run out, none of them wore coats.

Sylvain had only seconds to take in the entire scene, and as he scanned the chaos, the movement of a particular figure caught his eye. The way he held a sword, his graceful turns, and the power of his moves, it could only be one person.

“Help the others!” Sylvain yelled over the noise at his guards, and took off in Felix’s direction.

He was engaging four raiders at once, and they had moved to surround him. Jumping in without thought, Sylvain struck one of them down. Felix struck another, using the movement of his attack to avoid an oncoming blow. He shot Sylvain a look and said just loudly enough for Sylvain to hear. “I don’t need your help.”

“I know!” Sylvain yelled back as he avoided an axe to the side.

From the reports Sylvain had been given it seemed as if small groups had committed the raids that had happened on the settlements, but this gang seemed much larger than what they had been dealing with. It looked to Sylvain that they didn’t outnumber them as they had hoped, but were engaging the raiders with almost equal numbers.

More raiders came. Sylvain wanted to avoid fatal blows, which was more difficult then simply killing his opponent. And, the raiders were not going so easy on them.

Despite his protest, Felix let Sylvain fall into step with him. How often had they fought side by side? Who knew the way the other fought better than they did? In a way this too was a homecoming, as much as Sylvain wished this fight could have been avoided, he couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline he felt when battling, the thrill of exchanging blows, and the complete assurance that Felix would not let anyone passed his guard to Sylvain.

The fire seemed to be dying down. Sylvain registered that somewhere in the back of his mind as he traded blows with two raiders at once. He felt Felix move at his back, felt him shift his weight to the left, and Sylvain automatically moved to the right, anticipating Felix as his sword moved through the space Sylvain had just been occupying.

There weren’t many raiders left, though there had been a sudden jump of numbers on the two of them, Sylvain suspected they had been aiming for him specifically. And, just as he was starting to see the end of the battle, an arrow shot passed him. It missed Sylvain’s cheek by an inch at most. He ducked, rolling away instinctively. Sylvain turned to find the source of the arrow. He could make out a shape passed the edge of the camp.

He caught movement, and realized the archer was going to shoot again. They were too far for Sylvain to throw his own lance at; he squinted, and tried to make out their sight line. Just then the debris from a burning tent fell, it went down in the direction of the archer, and Sylvain had a clearer view of them. They didn’t aim for Sylvain this time; he was crouched down now, but to a couple feet to Sylvain’s right where Felix was still busy fighting.

Sylvain didn’t remember making a conscious decision, his thoughts moved too quickly for him to track them. There was no time to take out the archer; he would never manage to do it fast enough. But, there was time to get to Felix. He sprang up, doing the one thing he had been trained over and over again not to do, he let go of his weapon, and ran. He didn’t need the added weight or burden.

Felix ducked a blow, and swung, disarming his opponent one moment, and the next he staggered, just stopping himself from attacking Sylvain who had crashed into him. Sylvain had moved fast, but not fast enough.

His shoulder exploded in pain, which he grit his teeth against as he pushed Felix down to the ground. He felt the air rent just overhead with another arrow seconds before they fell into the snow. Felix made a noise of surprise, and Sylvain heard his name cried out from somewhere close by.

Ignoring the wound, Sylvain looked down. Felix was looking at him with shock and anger. “Are you all right?” Sylvain asked, breathlessly.

“You _idiot_!” Felix shouted, ignoring Sylvain’s question. And, despite everything, Sylvain smiled a little, Felix was clearly all right.

“My Lord!” Sylvain felt hands on him helping him up. He didn’t protest, let himself be lifted, and watched as Lukas offered a hand to Felix which he glared at and got swiftly to his feet on his own. “You’ve been hit!”

It was Sofie who had come to help him up, and Sylvain smiled at her reassuringly, “I’m fine, it’s not fatal.”

Sofie didn’t say anything, just looked over to the edge of camp, and Sylvain followed her gaze. He could see Lena engage the archer there. Sylvain looked around the camp. There were tents smoldering, but the fire had been mostly put out. One or two raiders were still being fought, but they had been mostly subdued, and Sylvain could see a number of them being made to sit on the ground as his soldiers bound their hands.

Someone had called the Captain over; she came running, and with her a healer. “My Lord, we’ve taken back the camp.”

Sylvain nodded, and then winced when the healer came forward, murmuring a quick apology, and snapped the arrow shaft in half. He pulled something from the belt at his waist and covered the splintered end in something that seemed almost like wax. “Ready, my Lord?” Sylvain nodded, and clenched his jaw. The healer pulled the broken arrow through, and Sylvain flinched with pain. A second later he left the numbing sensation of magic, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” He said to the healer, and then turned to the Captain. “After the wounded have been treated, and the camp is stabilized, bring the leader of these raiders to me.” Sylvain said, rolling his shoulder.

“Yes, my Lord.”

He turned to his guard, “Sofie, help tend the wounded, Lena and Lukas, I want you two to help with the raiders. Make sure they’re being treated as well.” Sylvain’s guard nodded.

Feeling eyes on him, Sylvain looked up. Felix was in the same spot he had been in when he got up, and he was looking at Sylvain with an inscrutable expression.

If Felix’s hair had been bound when the fighting started, it had come loose. As Sylvain had thought, it fell just passed his shoulders now. The edges were rough and uneven, Sylvain suspected Felix had cut it himself, perhaps with the sword he now held in his hand. He wore no armour either, and if Sylvain hadn’t moved to push him, the arrow would have gone straight through his neck.

“Are you expecting me to say ‘thank you’? I told you I don’t need your help.” Felix said when Sylvain moved a few steps closer to him.

Sylvain stopped when Felix said that, about a foot from him. “No,” said Sylvain, “I’m not expecting that. But, you never answered, are you all right?”

Felix glared at him. He looked angrier than he had been when Sylvain had pushed him down. “Don’t you dare try and play the hero. If you die, I’ll never forgive you.” Felix said, and left before Sylvain could think what to say to that.

Dying or being wounded hadn’t occurred to Sylvain when he acted. All he could think was he couldn’t let the arrow reach Felix. Sylvain sighed, and went to oversee the camp.

In the morning, though everyone was running on only a few hours of sleep, and still mostly battle weary, they set out back to Gautier. As tired as they were, it was preferable to leave for home when they could instead of spending more time in their wrecked camp. Sylvain had talked to the leader, the son of one of a clan of Sreng, and learned that resources were scarce. It had been difficult to get the young man to talk to him, but Felix had come in when Sylvain had begun getting agitated. He had matched the young leader’s glares and attitude, and seemed to anger as much as impress him. Eventually the leader agreed to a stop on the raids for two week’s time while Sylvain went back to Gautier and arranged for supplies to be sent out, and then to send someone to negotiate trade.

A few of the soldiers had lost their coats and warm weather gear to the fire, so the rest of them had distributed what they had to help protect them from the cold. Sylvain, who had brought the cloak Felix had gifted to him, threw it over the shoulders of a young woman who had broken her arm. The jade brooch was still fastened on the cloak, and for one second Sylvain thought of taking that off, but the next moment someone called him, and he left it.

Despite the fact that they were all tired, they were not slower on the journey back, as Sylvain had thought they might be. It seemed they were actually moving more quickly. Everyone seemed eager to be back home, especially those that had been on the boarder for some days now. Felix, who Sylvain had not spoken to since they had parted the night before, rode back with them. Sofie had managed to get him to answer a question or two, and informed Sylvain that Felix planned to stay the night at Gautier, he needed supplies, Felix had said.

It had been snowing their whole trip back, and they arrived just as the snow and wind were starting to pick up.

In the flurry of movement in the courtyard and stables it was a little while before the young woman Sylvain had lent his things to found him again. He smiled at her when she approached him. She had taken off his cloak and instead had an oversized guard’s coat on. She didn’t return Sylvain’s smile when their eyes met, she looked anxious.

“Thank – “ Sylvain began, reaching out for the cloak when she proffered it, but he didn’t get to finish before she cut him off.

“My Lord, please forgive me!” She bowed, and from that position said, “I did not notice until just now, but I’ve lost your brooch! I’m so sorry; I will cover the cost of it! Or I can go look for it, I know it was there not too long ago!”

Sylvain, who knew very well the brooch would not have been cheap, replied hastily, “You don’t have to do that!” And, while he didn’t blame her for losing it, he should have taken it back when he had the chance, he did feel its loss keenly. “It’s not your fault, please don’t worry over it.” He paused, looking out at the snow. “You said it was just recently lost?”

“Yes, my Lord, not more than ten minutes. I remember, because that’s what the Captain said before she gave me the last of the water ration, and I saw it still on the cloak.”

Thinking fast, Sylvain nodded. “Thank you. Go in and rest.” He turned and threw the cloak on. Running over to the stables he recruited one of the stable hands to help him gear Fenris up. He didn’t need the saddle, but he needed help putting on Fenris’ cold weather gear. With that done he mounted up and went out to the courtyard. At the gate Lena stopped him.

“Sylvain! Where the hell are you going?” She shouted over the noise as the guards hastily opened the gates for him.

They all looked at Sylvain who said only, “Don’t worry! I’ll be right back!”

“Sylvain, wait – !” Lena called, but he was gone.

There was still a vague outline of their tracks when Sylvain went out. He followed them back, looking intently for a glint of gold or the colour green. He had never tried to look for something lost in the snow before, and the fact that he had to cover his face as he was doing so made it harder to look at the ground. He hadn’t seen the sun all day, but it seemed to Sylvain as if he were losing daylight.

After a handful of minutes at a slow trot Sylvain dismounted and uncovered his face. He could see only a bit better, the snow was in his way, but he had more periphery, and he saw colours better like this.

His fringe blew into his eyes one second, and then completely away from his face the next. The wind was strong and biting, and Sylvain wished he had taken the past three weeks to grow his beard out again. Fenris plodded on slowly beside him, and Sylvain half regretted bringing his horse out with him if he was only going to have Fenris walk beside him.

As he searched, Sylvain thought about the way Felix had looked at him after the battle. He remembered the anger in his eyes, and way they had parted in Fraldarius. Sylvain thought about the way it had felt to wake up and see Felix’s gifts placed neatly beside him. His elation, the warmth that had gone through him like sunshine in spring. The brooch had been jade, and designed to look like a tree.

Sylvain kept going forward. It was harder to gauge distance when he was moving so slowly compared to their party when they had come back, the young soldier had said she lost the brooch some ten minutes ago. Sylvain started trying to brush back the snow with his boots from where he thought they had come. Their tracks were no longer visible, and when Sylvain looked up all he could see was white, he couldn’t have been very far from his ancestral home, but he couldn’t see it anymore.

“Just a bit more,” Sylvain muttered as he kept going.

After only another minute Sylvain’s face began to sting. His head was starting to hurt too, and the sun must have begun setting because it seemed dimmer to Sylvain already. Just when he was thinking of turning back, he heard his name called distantly. He yelled back, and turned toward the source.

The snow swallowed up sound and hindered vision, but Sylvain did his best to go toward the voices.

All of a sudden he happened upon three people. Lena, Sophie, and Lukas were all out looking for him. They shouted when they spotted him, and Lukas jumped off his horse to somewhat clumsily pull spare headgear back on Sylvain. Sylvain felt some relief, and found his energy level had dropped a great deal because he had trouble mounting back up on Fenris.

Seeing this Lukas pulled Sylvain onto his horse, and Lena grabbed Fenris’ reins.

It was the last thing Sylvain could focus on before he closed his eyes.

It was the feel of someone moving around the room that finally woke Sylvain. Groggy and tired Sylvain forced his eyes open. With the view of the room came the realization that he was freezing.

“Let me help you, my Lord.”

Sylvain turned to see his old family healer, Arthur, come from across the room to help him sit up. It was a sign of how strange Sylvain felt that he didn’t protest, and let the older man pile pillows behind his back.

“How do you feel?” Arthur asked.

Sylvain pulled on the blankets and tried to cover more of his chest. “It’s freezing,” he shivered.

Arthur clicked his tongue and took a goblet from Sylvain’s bedside table and held it up to his mouth. As tired and weak as he felt, Sylvain still managed to take the goblet from him to drink it himself. He drank something bitter and hard to swallow, but after the first mouthful his head felt clearer, and he stopped shaking from cold. He realized he was sweating.

“Drink the whole thing,” Arthur instructed, when he saw Sylvain could manage on his own.

Sylvain did as he was told. He still felt overly warm, and he had a bit of a headache, but he didn’t feel as if his head was filled with hot water anymore, burning up, with water jostling his brain, the way he had when he first woke.

“The potion seems to be taking effect.” Swallowing the last of it, Sylvain opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur cut him off, correctly anticipating what he was about to say. “No, I cannot use any kind of magic to heal you. This is what I can do for now, your body will recover naturally with rest.” He gave Sylvain a stern look. “And, let that be a lesson to you, my young reckless Lord, you know better than to charge out into a snow storm. Your father will give you a good scolding in the morning.”

“He hasn’t been in to see me, I take it?” Sylvain asked, already knowing the answer as he put the goblet back down. He felt a little stronger, though still not like his usual self.

“My Lord, your father is a very busy man,” Arthur began, and Sylvain sighed.

“Yes, never mind him then.” Sylvain glanced out the window, but the curtains were drawn. “How long was I asleep?”

“Almost seven hours, it is just passed midnight, my Lord.” Arthur answered as he busied himself at Sylvain’s dresser, which he was clearly using as a makeshift table for his potions. He glanced over at Sylvain and said, “I’ll send someone up with food, and after you eat I want you to drink this.” He gestured to another goblet. “Then get some more rest. Goddess willing you will be back to normal in the morning. I will return then to see how you’ve recovered, but don’t forget to drink the whole thing.”

The idea of drinking another bitter tasting drink did not appeal to Sylvain, but he didn’t argue. “Thank you,” Sylvain said instead.

The older man waved this off. “Don’t thank me, my Lord, just be sensible in the future.” He looked suddenly as if he remembered something, and asked. “What possessed you to charge out like that?”

Sylvain looked at his hands resting on the duvet, “I lost something important.”

“Whatever it was, it’s not worth your life. Now, get some rest.” Arthur left, and Sylvain leaned back on his pillows sighing.

He didn’t sit for long. Slowly, Sylvain got up and went to relieve himself, then changed into a clean nightshirt; he had been sweating quite a lot.

Sitting back in his bed Sylvain wished he had something to show for all his efforts and stupidity. He had gone out into a snowstorm as if he didn’t already know how deadly that could be. Maybe it was a symptom of how desperate he was starting to feel, like one more thing he couldn’t get right. If he couldn’t even be trusted to care for a trinket, how could he be expected to care for someone else’s heart? It felt as if Sylvain had failed some kind of test.

Sylvain leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He tried to relax, but everything that had been piling up over the last few weeks, months, turned over in his mind. Sylvain was running out of time. He had never really had the luxury of time in the first place, but what little he had been able to afford was gone. Whatever decision he was going to make it needed to be now.

The sudden sound of voices from out in the hall caught his attention, Sylvain opened his eyes and lifted his head. The door to his quarters opened with a bang, he heard it hit the wall with the force of how hard it swung, and then he heard one of the voices clearly.

“Your Grace please, my Lord needs rest. Please, if you just wait – “

More than one pair of footsteps made their way closer, and suddenly Felix was storming into Sylvain’s bedchamber.

“ _You_ _fool_!”

A maid followed closely behind Felix. She was carrying a tray with covered dishes, and looked very distressed, she shot a look at Sylvain that told him she had clearly been trying to stop Felix for some time.

“My Lord,” she said to Sylvain, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t – “

“It’s all right, please just leave the tray,” Sylvain said, ignoring Felix’s outburst for now. “Don’t worry, I know you did your best. You may leave us, thank you.”

The maid did as she was asked, curtsying before rushing out. Felix meanwhile was pacing in front of the small fireplace in Sylvain’s room, opposite his bed. A fire burned there, it and the lantern by Sylvain’s bed provided the illumination in the room. Felix’s face was in partial shadow, but Sylvain didn’t need to see it clearly to know how upset he was.

“First, you get yourself shot with an arrow, then you go out into a storm. Are you really that stupid or do you have a death wish?” Felix’s hair was unbound, he wore a simple soft leather jacket over a white shirt, and the jacket hung open, as if he had thrown it on while on his way there. He held his hands in tight fists by his sides, and didn’t look at Sylvain while he spoke. “The next time you do something so idiotic and reckless, I’ll kill you myself.” He paused, and then added in a tone that held something other than anger. “You swore you wouldn’t die before me, or does your word mean nothing?”

“Felix,” Sylvain said, watching as his friend continued to pace in agitation in front of the fire. “I’m sorry.”

Finally, Felix looked over at him. He clenched his jaw, and began to walk over to Sylvain.

Sylvain felt the odds were fairly high Felix was on his way to hit him, but he didn’t shrink back, and watched in some surprise as Felix brought the tray from where it had been set on a table by the door, and placed it on Sylvain’s bedside table.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies, I’m tired of them. Do something about it if you’re really sorry. Idiot.” Felix looked down at him, and then abruptly sat on the edge of the bed.

Surprised, it took a second for Sylvain to move over to give him more room. Felix sat close to him, his hip pressed to Sylvain’s thigh.

“They said you had a high fever. You fell unconscious when they brought you back, and you wouldn’t wake.” Felix was looking at the candle by Sylvain’s bed as he spoke. The flickering light was dim, it created wells of shadow on Felix’s face that Sylvain had grown familiar with. His dark hair gleamed where light danced on it. “How do you feel?” Felix said this last like he was forcing the words out, like they cost him, and he was only grudgingly agreeing to pay for them.

“Fine, thank you for your concern.” Sylvain said with a little smile, which he could see irritated Felix, but Sylvain couldn’t help but tease him a little. He hadn’t been sure he would get a chance to see Felix again before he left.

“I’m only worried you’ve lost your mind. What the hell were you doing going back out into that storm?”

“Ah,” Sylvain said, he looked away, “I should apologize for that too. I lost the brooch you gave me, I went out to look for it.”

Sylvain’s confession was met with silence. Felix said nothing for a long while, and Sylvain finally lifted his head to look at him. He was staring at Sylvain, when their eyes met he scowled.

“There are no depths to your idiocy,” he said.

“You’re right,” Sylvain agreed, “But it was important to me.”

They looked at each other. He could see Felix struggling with something; he looked as if he didn’t know how to handle what Sylvain had just said. Sylvain suspected Felix wanted to be angry with him still, but he was softening.

“I take it your fever is better than?” Felix asked, abruptly changing the subject, and refusing to acknowledge Sylvain’s words.

Sylvain let him. “It’s gone down,” he replied, and then touched his own forehead, before shrugging, “I think I’m still a little too warm, but I can’t be sure.”

Without any warning, Felix reached out and touched Sylvain’s forehead. His hand, as always, was cool, and it felt like ice against Sylvain’s over-warm skin. Surprised, Sylvain sat completely still. Felix made a small noise of annoyance, and took his hand back.

“That was pointless.” He shifted slightly; moving forward, pushed his own bangs back, and pressed his forehead to Sylvain’s.

If Sylvain had been surprised before, he was completely stunned now. He didn’t move, he didn’t even dare to breathe.

Felix’s eyes were closed; Sylvain on the other hand could not look away from him. He felt Felix’s warm breath on his face, the heat of his skin, and he felt electric. His heart was beating hard in his chest; it felt as good as it did painful. The proximity alone was going to overwhelm him.

“You still have a slight fever,” Felix said softly, his tone, his touch; so soft.

Unable to help himself, Sylvain replied, “I didn’t realize you were a healer too,” quietly, in a voice that was deeper than usual.

Felix drew back to shoot him a glare, but Sylvain reached out to cup the back of his head, stopping him from moving too far, their faces mere inches apart. He felt Felix tense immediately. He looked like the picture of fight or flight.

“You came to see me,” Sylvain said to distract him.

“I told you, I wanted to be sure you hadn’t lost your wits altogether, what little you had to begin with.”

Sylvain smiled, “I think you have more than enough wit for the both of us.”

“One of us has to.”

As they spoke, Sylvain lifted the other hand and cupped Felix’s jaw. Unlike Sylvain, Felix was slow to grow scruff, and his skin was smooth. Sylvain ran his thumb gently over his cheek, Felix looked away then, his eyes downcast. His lovely white skin was starting to turn pink, Sylvain felt Felix’s breathing come in faster, and it matched his own. But, Felix didn’t relax; he was still so tense, as taut as a bowstring.

Gently, Sylvain took Felix’s face in his hands. “Felix,” he said quietly, unable to keep the longing he felt from creeping into his voice.

Felix brought his gaze up slowly. He looked young, and more vulnerable than Sylvain had ever seen him. He was reminded again of the fact that Felix had no romantic experience with anyone other than Sylvain.

He caressed Felix’s skin, “Felix,” he said again. Feeling the words he longed to speak rise up and lodge in his throat.

Felix’s gaze was intent on him, Felix looked at Sylvain like he was a question he didn’t know how to answer.

Then, Felix made a small, almost pained noise, and kissed him.

It was better than any kiss Sylvain had ever had. None of those other kisses made him feel like his body was _alive_ , none of them made his mind quiet, and none of them filled his heart with so much joyous emotion he felt as if it might burst.

Felix’s mouth was warm and soft. Despite the fact that he had initiated the kiss, his touch was tentative, like he was unsure. His sweet hesitancy was a gift no one else had ever received.

Sylvain pressed his mouth more firmly to Felix’s, and as before, couldn’t keep his longing in check. Months of yearning poured out of him, but he didn’t let it get the better of his control, he wanted to convey his feelings with tenderness, and kissed Felix with the aching sweetness that throbbed in his heart.

This was a first for Sylvain too, and he felt as if he understood now the meaning of every ballad he had ever heard. He could feel it in Felix’s kiss, and tasted it on his lips.

After a long moment, they drew apart. Sylvain watched as Felix slowly opened his eyes. He was breathing hard, and flushed the way Sylvain often saw in his dreams. The candlelight caught the gold in his eyes. Sylvain searched his gaze for a sign of regret, but found none. Felix looked back at him, dark eyed, and so beautiful.

For a moment they simply gazed at each other, breathing together. Sylvain’s own emotions reflected to him in Felix’s eyes.

Sylvain kissed him again, and again. This time, Felix melted into him, and Sylvain’s heart beat a new rhythm that was only for Felix.

When they broke apart again, it was Felix who drew back. Sylvain let his touch trail from Felix’s cheek to his neck, and watched the way Felix’s eyes half closed at the sensation.

They were so distracted by each other that they failed to notice the sudden noise of footsteps.

The door to Sylvain’s chambers opened again, and they both jumped. Felix flushed, and stood abruptly. The next second Margrave, Arthur, and the maid from earlier all appeared. Sylvain’s father looked between them, and Sylvain was sure he could see the traces of what they had been doing on them. Sylvain felt like he had been marked by those kisses, permanently changed.

Margrave frowned at Felix. “Agitating my son, Felix?”

Felix met Margrave’s look, and all the traces of softness that Sylvain had seen only moments ago were gone. “I was just leaving,” Felix said.

“Wait,” Sylvain made to get up, but Arthur hurried forward and pushed on his shoulder.

“My Lord, you’ve left your food untouched! You need to eat!”

“Wait,” Sylvain said again, “Felix – “

But Felix was already at his bedroom door; he half turned back, and said, “Get some rest,” before he left.

Sylvain thought about running after him, but his father was already lecturing Sylvain, Arthur and the maid were placing the tray on his lap. He sighed, and ate as his father spoke.

When he was done eating, his father and the maid left. As soon as Arthur left too, Sylvain was going to go look for Felix.

“Drink the whole goblet, my Lord.” Arthur said absently, passing Sylvain his potion, and then turning to clean up his things on Sylvain’s dresser.

Sylvain downed the drink quickly. It wasn’t bitter like the first one, but almost sweet.

“That should help you sleep through the night. I’ll be back in the morning, my Lord, sleep well.”

Sylvain blinked, watched as Arthur pulled the goblet from his hand, his eyelids growing heavy. He wanted to get up, but his head felt light. He leaned back instead, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I HAVE ART!!!! THE WONDERFUL [AMANDA](https://twitter.com/kaijujuice) DREW [THIS](https://twitter.com/kaijujuice/status/1250445946024009728) AND IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I WANT TO CRY. Please check out her stuff, it's all lovely, and thank you again so much for this amazing gift :')))
> 
> I can see that kiss scene so clearly in my head. Like, I can SEE it. I want to commission art for it so bad, if I qualify for Employment Insurance, I will. 
> 
> I've been working on this instead of other stuff, but I gotta catch up with those others! So, there'll be a bit a break before the next chapter, sorry my dears! I hope you'll stick around for it, and thanks again so much for all the comments and kudos, y'all give me life. 
> 
> Take care, stay safe, I love you all!!!! <333


	10. Let it be for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. I had such a difficult time writing this chapter, I really hope it reads well. >_<
> 
> Shoutout to Fire Emblem Wiki, I've used that so much throughout this fic. Bless everyone who contributed to it. 
> 
> Finally, I listened to [Love on the brain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RyInjfgNc4) and [NFWMB](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pi6pLTrx94Q) a million times while I wrote, they're both beautiful songs and I recommend them!!
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 10!

And babe I’m fist-fighting with fire  
Just to get close to you  
Can we burn something babe  
And I run for miles just to get a taste  
Must be love on the brain

- _Love on the brain_ , Rihanna

Sylvain woke feeling well rested and disoriented. There was perhaps half a minute where he lay in bed blinking at the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in his curtains, confused by the obvious lateness of the day, and then he sat bolt upright.

All of a sudden he remembered exactly why he had slept in, and a panicked feeling settled in his stomach. Sylvain’s heart beat frantically as he scrabbled out of bed. Forgoing shoes or even a robe, wearing only his nightshirt, Sylvain ran out of his rooms. Hurrying down the hall he stopped at the guest rooms and found a maid emerging from one of them.

She spotted Sylvain as he hurried over, she flushed bright red, looked away curtsying, but Sylvain hardly noticed.

“Which one is Felix’s room?” Sylvain asked eagerly.

“This one my Lord,” she pointed to the room she had just exited from, and Sylvain rushed passed. “Wait, my Lord!”

But, when Sylvain walked in, he could tell there was no one in it, and the maid hurried in after him.

“Where is he?” Sylvain asked, turning back to her.

She met his gaze for only a second, before she looked away, obviously embarrassed. “This was the Duke’s room, but he left at first light, my Lord.”

Unable to stop himself, Sylvain cursed loudly.

Alarmed, the maid looked at him again, and Sylvain looked at her blankly before remembering himself.

“My apologies,” he said, with hardly a fraction of his usual charm. “And, thank you.” Sylvain hurried back out, ignoring the chill and the way the stone under his feet felt like walking on slabs of ice.

He passed many other servants on his way back to his room, and they all looked at Sylvain like they feared his mind had been addled by the fever, but Sylvain paid them no mind. Back in his room he found Arthur, who exclaimed at the sight of him.

“My Lord, what in the goddess’ name are you doing! You’ll catch your death roaming around like that!”

Sylvain pushed down his irritation, knowing Arthur was only doing his job, and let himself be sat on the bed. He waited impatiently for Arthur to look him over, feel his forehead, and neck, look at his eyes, into his mouth, and his ears.

“Very good, my Lord,” Arthur pronounced as he stepped back. “Now, don’t make yourself sick again. Don’t you dare let me catch you walking around like that.” He gestured to all of Sylvain. “Never mind how improper it is for the young Lord to meander the halls in your state,” he said sternly. “Now, I’ll send up hot water for a bath, your fever is gone, and you’ll want to wash off the sweat, I suspect. I’ll send up something for breakfast too. I suggest you get a bit more rest today as well – “

“Thank you, Arthur,” Sylvain cut in firmly. “But, I don’t have time to rest.”

“My Lord – “ Arthur tried to protest, but Sylvain was already standing up.

He pulled on a pair of boots, and went over to his desk. “I’ll be sure to eat and bathe, thank you very much for taking care of me.” Sylvain said in a way that clearly signalled the end of the discussion. He said it in a tone of voice he had been perfecting over the course of the last few months. It was a commanding tone, one that he used particularly on older men who forgot that Sylvain was not a young schoolboy anymore.

Arthur pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Very well, my Lord. But, _do_ be mindful. If you fall sick again in the next few days, I’ll make you take the Sreng cure, which is not a potion, and it does not go in orally.”

Sylvain met Arthur’s look, not showing the fact that he did indeed recognize this as a threat, and watched as Arthur took his leave. Once he was gone Sylvain pulled a fresh sheet of parchment to himself, picked up a quill, and found an inkwell. He was in the middle of writing when servants came in. He thanked them for the hot water they brought, and asked that they send up Moritz, Fynn, and a few other people.

He didn’t take the time to luxuriate in the bath, but washed practically, and with speed. Once done he threw on what was at hand, and clean, in time for the people he had summoned to arrive. He ate breakfast while he explained to them what needed to be done for Sreng. In the immediate they needed supplies, but in the long term they needed a viable solution. Mortiz and Fynn were set the task of leading a negotiation team to Sreng, and were given the freedom to put that team together. Sylvain needed to put together a report on the boarder skirmish, as well as one for the relief team he was creating.

His father was not a charitable man, and he would want a profitable reason to give aid to Sreng, especially when they had only just attacked.

Sylvain spent the day in his study, receiving reports, giving orders, and writing. He had the rest of the day to organize everything that needed to be done, because first thing tomorrow he was setting out for Fraldarius.

He was up before the sun, Sylvain was anxious to leave. He checked his gear, and his bag again, and again. He kept walking around his room, seemingly to check that he did not forget to take anything with him, but he all his attention was spent searching for signs of first light in the sky.

As soon as there was a semblance of light outside, Sylvain left his room. He had organized everything, hardly sleeping; to make sure things would be taken care of in his absence. In the worst-case scenario Sylvain would be back tomorrow morning, but he hoped he wouldn’t be. He wrote his father a note, and was careful he didn’t get wind of where Sylvain was going, partly because he wasn’t ready to speak with him, but partly because he simply couldn’t give his attention to anything else at the moment. It had taken all the discipline and willpower he had to keep him in Gautier all day yesterday, he couldn’t handle giving his attention to something that could wait.

Sylvain set off with determination. He had never pegged Felix for a runner, but it seemed that he was, at least in some instances. Because, that’s clearly what this was, Felix was running away, and Sylvain just couldn’t let him anymore. Whatever Felix decided after he saw Sylvain again, Sylvain would live with, but he couldn’t keep everything inside anymore. Sylvain, for one, was tired of running.

This time the weather was with him. It was sunny, with hardly any wind at all. It was still quite cold, but Sylvain was careful to take proper care of himself and his horse, and it didn’t hurt that he took well-traveled roads.

When he arrived in Fraldarius, no one was surprised to see him. As soon as Sylvain was inside he spoke to the first servant he came across, an older man, and asked, “Where can I find Felix?”

“Just down that hall,” the man pointed, “On the last door on the left, my Lord.” Which was all Sylvain needed to hear. “But, my Lord – !“ Sylvain was already running, he had his bags with him, and all his gear. He was sweaty and dishevelled, but he had come this far in a single-minded concentration, he wasn’t about the break that now.

The door to the last room on the left was closed, Sylvain rapped on it once, and didn’t wait for an answer before he threw it open.

“Felix – “ He started, and stopped. Sylvain had been so intent on finding Felix that he hadn’t paid attention to where exactly he was, if he had been he would have realized this was the room commonly used for meetings. He was currently looking at a meeting in full swing, with not just Felix and his council, but prominent figures from Gloucester; Sylvain recognized some of them.

Everyone had turned to look at him, all with varying degrees of surprise in their expressions, but Felix looked the most surprised of everyone. He looked at Sylvain like he was a specter come to torment him.

That look disappeared when Sylvain made eye contact, because then Felix scowled. “What are you doing?” Felix demanded. And then, “Never mind, just leave.”

“Oh,” said one of the Gloucester representatives, “Is the young Lord Gautier joining us?”

“No,” said Felix firmly, not looking away from Sylvain.

“Felix,” replied Sylvain, refusing to lose his nerve. “I need to speak with you.”

“I’m busy. Go.”

“No.”

Felix looked at him like he was seriously considering throwing something at him. He got up abruptly, and walked past Sylvain out into the hall, gesturing sharply that he should follow. Sylvain did, and they went to the end of the hall, out of earshot of the meeting room.

“I need to speak with you,” Sylvain said in a rush. There was a window here, and though the sun shone brightly; Sylvain could feel the temperature drop.

Felix was leaning back against the wall opposite Sylvain, putting as much distance between them as he could. He stood directly in a patch of light, which turned his fair skin almost iridescent, his dark hair gleamed, and his eyes shone, Sylvain felt his heart throb. “I am occupied,” Felix said flatly.

“After your meeting then.”

“I will be occupied then too.”

“I can wait until you have time.”

Felix glared at him. “Or, I can have you removed.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

They stared at each other in tense silence for a moment. Felix looked as if he was tempted to try and kick Sylvain out himself, but then pushed away from the wall.

“I’m not wasting any more time on you. Leave or stay, I could not care less.” And he walked past Sylvain back into the meeting room. Sylvain stood there staring down the hall for a moment before he went, sighing. He supposed he should count it as a win that Felix hadn’t tried to fight him.

Sylvain spent the rest of the day restless. As much as he enjoyed his time in Fraldarius, he couldn’t relax enough to appreciate it. He tried to keep himself busy, but after dinner he went to Felix’s quarters, and paced around his sitting room. He opened books, but didn’t read them; he poured himself wine, and didn’t drink it. He even tried tending to his weapons, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate, and it felt as if he sighed every five minutes.

What if Felix simply fought him instead of listening? What if he kept running away? What if, worst of all, he rejected Sylvain?

Sylvain had no control over the latter, but as he paced the room he felt more and more determined to fight back. He had let Felix push him away, quite literally, multiple times, and while Sylvain really was more of a lover than a fighter, he wasn’t going to give up without fighting with everything he had this time.

Some time later, well into the night, Felix returned to his rooms. Sylvain was sitting in an armchair, elbows on knees, and his fingers together, staring into the fire. His head snapped up when Felix came in. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach, all kinds of nerves flaring back into life at the sight of him. Felix, whose hair was short and unadorned, tied in a messy bun, and who glared at Sylvain when he saw him.

“Why are you still here?” Felix asked as he closed the door behind him, taking long strides into the room, and walking past Sylvain to the service table on the other side of the room.

“I told you,” said Sylvain, standing, and walking around the armchair to face him, “I need to speak with you.”

“What about?” Felix asked, his back to Sylvain, he was pouring something into a cup. “Wedding plans?”

Sylvain felt the butterflies in his stomach freeze, ice prickled down his back.

“What? No, I – “

“Oh,” Felix cut in, turning back, his expression dark. “I forgot, you did not want me to know, did you?”

“It’s not – it wasn’t – Felix, _listen_ – “

“Leave.” Felix’s voice rose. “I told you I have no desire to see you.”

“Is that how you felt when you kissed me?”

Silence.

Felix looked as if Sylvain had slapped him. He had flushed an angry red, and the tension in the room became palpable. Sylvain could practically see the fight in Felix bloom like the colour in his cheeks.

“Please, listen,” Sylvain said, softly. It felt as if Sylvain were walking out onto a frozen pond. He couldn’t be sure the ice would bear his weight, he was walking out blindly, one false move, and he would fall through. “Just, listen. If you want me to leave after, I will, I promise. But, please, I just need to say this.”

He was met with more silence. Felix was leaning back on the service table, clutching the edge of it so hard Sylvain thought he might crack the wood. He said nothing in reply, and Sylvain took that as permission to continue.

He had tried to come up with something to say on the ride there, in all the time Sylvain had been restlessly waiting for Felix to finish with his obligations, but now that the moment was here, he found he could do nothing but speak what was in his heart in that moment. Taking a deep breath, Sylvain tried to explain.

“I,” Sylvain began, and then shook his head. He tried again. “For a long time, years now, I’ve played the part of tragic hero. I’ve made myself into a victim, more of a victim, and acted as if I had no say in what happened to me. I went along with what my father wanted as if I didn’t have a choice. That isn’t true. It has never been true. I simply did not want to see that, because it was too hard to take my future into my own hands.” Sylvain paused, and took a tentative step forward. Felix wasn’t looking at him; his gaze was turned to a spot on the floor.

“There is something else I’ve been ignoring. I admitted it to myself only recently. I’m not sure if it was because I did not know, or I did not wish to know, but not acknowledging it has only made us both miserable.” He took two more steps forward. “I know I’m making assumptions, you’ve never said anything, and maybe it’s just my delusions, but I think I’m right this time.” Another step. “I will not marry Beatrice, and I’m sorry for not telling you about her. I’m sorry for being a coward, for taking so long to understand my own feelings, and I’m sorry for acting like I never had a choice.” Another step, he was within arm’s reach of Felix now. “Of course I do.” Carefully, like he was approaching a feral cat, he reached out to touch Felix’s hand, fully aware he might have the offending hand clawed off for his troubles. “It’s you, Felix, if I have any choice, then it’s you.” He took Felix’s hand, making sure to keep his touch light, giving him every opportunity to take his hand back. His skin was cool, and his hand shook, but when he finally looked up at Sylvain, his gaze was steady.

They looked at each other. Felix didn’t hold onto Sylvain’s hand in return, but he didn’t pull away either. He stared at Sylvain, and Sylvain looked back, willing Felix to see that he meant every word of what he said.

And, just like the other day, it was as if something broke in Felix, like a bowstring snapping, Felix was suddenly moving; he took Sylvain’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

They staggered slightly; Sylvain put his arms around Felix for balance, and then pressed him closer. Felix’s kiss was messy, desperate, and after a moment Sylvain broke away.

He smiled a little at Felix, who was flushed, and breathing hard. Lifting a hand to brush Felix’s bangs back, Sylvain kissed high on Felix’s cheek, close to his eye, which Felix reflexively closed. Sylvain kissed his other cheek, lower this time, and then the corner of Felix’s mouth, before softly kissing his lips again. This kiss was sweeter, slower, as if to say there was no need to rush, there was no reason to worry.

Felix let himself be led, he was surprisingly receptive when he wanted to be, and Sylvain felt his longing returned in kind.

When they broke apart again, Sylvain pulled Felix into a tight embrace. He pressed his face to Felix’s neck, and breathed deeply. “I missed you,” Sylvain said quietly. He felt Felix shiver, and then felt his arms go around Sylvain in return. He was tense, and his touch was light, it felt to Sylvain as if he wasn’t sure what to do. Sylvain smiled a little, pressed a kiss to his neck, and then squeezed tightly.

Felix made a noise of protest, and then hit him, not hard enough to hurt, but Sylvain let go, laughing a little as Felix scowled. “You brute,” he muttered.

Sylvain just smiled, “Have you had something to eat? Shall I get you something?” Sylvain half turned to go, but Felix caught his arm.

“I’m not hungry,” Felix said, and then pulled Sylvain along to the bedroom. Sylvain went, feeling equal parts nerves and anticipation. He let himself be pushed down to sit on the edge of Felix’s bed; Felix climbed onto his lap, and kissed him again.

“Wait,” Sylvain said, breaking the kiss after only a moment, holding onto Felix’s shoulders. “We don’t – “ His voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat. “We do not have to do…anything. We could simply– simply talk? Or sleep?”

Felix looked at him like Sylvain had used an old idiom of some kind, as if he understood the words themselves but not the meaning. He began to get off Sylvain, “If you didn’t want to, you only had to say,” he wasn’t looking at Sylvain anymore.

“No, that’s not – “ Felix was arrested in the act of getting up off the bed. Sylvain managed to coax him into sitting down beside him. “I do want to. But, I thought perhaps, I’m not sure, I just – I want you to know it’s not _all_ I want.”

“Noted.” Said Felix, before he pushed Sylvain down. The next second Felix was on him, kissing him hard, pressing firmly against him, and pulling at Sylvain’s clothes. His trousers were unbuckled and unlaced at lightning speed, and Felix’s hand was on him only seconds later.

Sylvain broke away again, stilling Felix’s hand. “Wait, wait.”

Felix made a noise of impatience and pushed himself up on his elbows to glare down at Sylvain. “What is the problem now?” He demanded.

Sylvain frowned at him. “’Problem’?” He echoed. “No, I just don’t see why we should rush; I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time, is it not the same for you?”

“No,” replied Felix bluntly. “I want you to hurry up and fuck me.”

Truthfully, Sylvain wanted that too. But Felix’s words were harsh, and his tone was one of irritation, not the urgency of passion.

Instead of replying, Sylvain pushed Felix up, and then sat up himself. Felix made another sound of annoyance and glared at a spot on the bed to his right, he refused to meet Sylvain’s gaze.

“Felix,” said Sylvain, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Felix snapped. “Except that you are insisting on playing the romantic hero when I’m telling you to get on with it.”

Sylvain’s frown deepened. Felix was sitting with his knees bent and pressed together on an angle, he gripped the duvet in tight fists on either side of him, and his hair was spilling out of its tie. A servant had tended to the fire while Sylvain had been waiting, and two lamps had been lit on either side of the bed. There was only so much light lanterns could provide, but Sylvain could see well enough to make out Felix’s expression.

He didn’t look as angry as he sounded; he looked embarrassed, and vulnerable. Felix’s irritation wasn’t that of someone who couldn’t let their guard down, it was that of someone who had no defenses at all.

Taking a breath, Sylvain shifted closer to Felix, he was as close as he could be without touching him.

“Felix,” Sylvain paused, he licked his lips, and tried to find the right words to express what he wanted to say. “I want to touch you.” He began, finding that once he started, the words came to him as if they had always been there. “But I want to do it slowly. I want to take my time undressing you. I want to kiss everywhere I touch. I want to stop and look at you, and see you looking back at me.” He paused, his voice becoming breathier as his heart raced in his chest. He reached out, and touched Felix’s hand on the bed. To Sylvain’s surprise, Felix immediately took his hand, fitting his fingers between Sylvain’s own. It gave Sylvain the courage to say the rest. “I want to make love to you. I love you.”

Felix closed his eyes, and he gripped Sylvain’s hand so hard he thought it might bruise. Sylvain wasn’t the only one short of breath, Felix’s chest rose and fell quickly; he was shaking.

Reaching out, Sylvain cupped his face, gently coaxing him to turn his head. After a second of resistance, Felix did, though his gaze was downcast. Leaning in, Sylvain pressed his forehead to Felix’s.

They were quiet, and still, so close together that they shared the same air, and that felt right jus then. That they share something essential, so innately part of themselves, and then let it effortlessly intermingle.

“If you still want this,” Sylvain said after a moment, his voice coming out like breath. “Then, let it be for love, Felix. I can’t do anything else anymore. Please, let me love you.”

Felix swallowed audibly. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, squeezed Sylvain’s hand, and then tried again. He spoke as if he had to force the words out. “It has always been that way for me.”

Sylvain felt a rush of emotion flow through him; it was like the opposite of a shiver, something warm that made him still instead of shake.

“But,” Felix added, “If you toy with me, I will not hesitate to end you.”

Sylvain smiled, “Noted.”

Finally, Felix moved a fraction back from him, and met his gaze.

Sylvain pressed him down onto the mattress, and kissed him.

Each kiss with Felix had been so different; this one was like flying. Sylvain thought briefly of Ingrid’s words to him when she had visited.

_‘It’s always hard to take the first step, but I’m certain you’ll find you won’t fall, Sylvain, you’ll fly.’_

That’s what this felt like. Instead of crashing spectacularly as he had expected, Sylvain was among the stars, borne up on the power of requited love.

Despite all his practice, Sylvain wasn’t nearly as smooth as he hoped to be when he finally undressed Felix. The act itself was exciting, Felix was letting him do it instead of pushing his hands away to do it himself, but he fumbled on ties, and needed to take a breath before he could properly unbuckle his belt.

But then, for all his struggles, he was rewarded with the sight of Felix’s bare skin.

He was so fair, any colour he had on his skin was from the blood rushing to it when Sylvain touched him. Sylvain had never really appreciated how pleasing hard lines of muscle were, but the sight of them was striking.

Felix had so many scars for someone so young. His scars didn’t mar his appearance however, they were like constellations, and Sylvain would learn to navigate Felix’s body by each point of raised pale skin.

Sitting back slightly, Sylvain stared.

“What are you doing?” Felix’s voice was rough, but his tone wasn’t angry.

“Nothing,” Sylvain said, reaching out to touch him. “You are beautiful.”

Felix looked away, the colour in his cheeks, and even his neck, deepening. “Spare me.”

After that Sylvain hastily threw off his own clothing, practically falling off the bed when he unbalanced trying to pull off his trousers. Felix snickered at him, and Sylvain leaned over to bite his thigh in retaliation.

Sylvain made many discoveries in his slow exploration of Felix’s body. He had a beauty mark on his left shoulder blade. When Sylvain trailed fingers over Felix’s ribs, he found Felix was ticklish. He liked to be kissed on the inside of his wrist, behind his knees, and the back of his neck. When Sylvain touched him _just so_ Felix made a noise that was rapidly becoming addictive.

“That’s enough,” Felix said, making an attempt to speak in his normal tone, and failing.

Sylvain lifted his head from the act of kissing along his spine. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No.” Felix made a sound of annoyance and half turned to glare at him. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

Sylvain, genuinely confused, but completely willing to be honest, assumed Felix meant his kisses. “Yes, obviously.”

Felix hit him and sat up. Sylvain, bewildered, sat back on his feet, rubbing absently at his arm, and watched as Felix purposefully shifted over to his bedside table, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled something out. He threw it at Sylvain’s head, and Sylvain reflexively caught it before it hit.

Opening his hand Sylvain realized he was holding a bottle of oil.

Sylvain looked up from the bottle to Felix, who was flushed, but very obviously determined.

“Well?” Felix demanded, and without waiting for Sylvain to reply, laid himself out on his stomach.

There had been very few moments in his life where Sylvain’s mind simply couldn’t handle what it was processing. Not even in his wildest fantasies, of which Sylvain had admittedly indulged in many, had he ever been here.

Felix shot him a look over his shoulder, and Sylvain shut his mouth with a snap. He started forward, and then paused, despite his incredible urge to keep going. This time he wanted to have permission; he wanted to know undeniably it was what they both wanted.

“You – “ He had to stop to swallow, “You want me to – to – “

“Did I not already say?” Felix asked, turning away, the back of his neck going red. “Or, would you rather the other way around?”

It was a very interesting, though unfair question to ask in that moment. Sylvain would have liked time to truly consider that proposition, but just then he couldn’t get his attention to unstick from the beautiful curve of Felix’s backside.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Unstopping the bottle, he was hit with the scent of honey. It was perhaps the best thing Sylvain had ever smelled. He was going to go into town one day and buy nothing but honey scented products.

“You have to tell me if anything feels – bad. Or hurts.”

Felix shifted slightly when Sylvain moved closer, the space between his thighs widening. Sylvain tried to concentrate on carefully pouring out the oil.

“I thought you would be so experienced by now you wouldn’t need my help.”

Sylvain looked up then, feeling the oil slide down his fingers. “What? But, we have never done this before.” And, then when he realized what Felix was implying, felt a little hurt, though the assumption probably wasn’t anything he hadn’t earned. “Felix, I have never done anything like this with anyone. I have never – “ He gestured vaguely, forgetting for a moment that Felix couldn’t see him.

“Fucked anyone?” Felix supplied.

Sylvain blushed, more because it thrilled him to hear Felix say it like that than out of embarrassment. “Yes.”

He got no reply for a moment, and then Felix said, “That will never change if you don’t hurry up.”

Despite himself, Sylvain laughed. It was shaky, and more of an exhale, but still laughter, and he immediately felt better. Putting aside the bottle, Sylvain leaned down to kiss Felix’s shoulder. “Understood,” he said.

Even though Felix had asked him to hurry, Sylvain worked slowly. He had assumed the pleasurable part for him would be later, he hadn’t expected to enjoy this too. No matter how many times he experienced the truth of it, it still struck him anew to know first hand that his feelings made such a difference. It had always seemed like something of a myth, that sex felt better when there was love; it was a lesson Sylvain was being taught over and over again. Everything felt amplified with Felix, and it wasn’t just Sylvain’s body that gloried in touch, it was his heart too.

Sylvain enjoyed it, the act itself, the sight of Felix’s muscles shifting under his skin as he tensed, then relaxed, and the sounds he made. All of it made better because it was Felix. Felix, who had never mentioned his own feelings, but had harboured them for Sylvain this whole time. Felix, whose guard was always up, whose instinct was always fight or flight, he was surrendering, giving of himself.

He hardly noticed his own arousal, too caught up in noticing how hot Felix’s skin was; that he shivered when Sylvain kissed the small of his back, and moaned when Sylvain curled his fingers. Sylvain realized suddenly that Felix was making no effort to keep quiet any longer.

Sylvain’s fingers were sliding in easily now, when he pressed them in; Felix shifted his hips down to follow the movement, and gasped. Sylvain felt a rush of heat, and suddenly his desire flamed.

He leaned down to kiss Felix’s shoulder, his neck, and asked, his mouth right by Felix’s ear. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

Sylvain rose on his knees, carefully withdrawing his fingers, and trying to calm down despite the noise Felix made at the loss.

He fumbled with the bottle of oil, and then moved over to Felix. Sylvain realized he was shaking. He was breathing hard; just the anticipation of it was almost too much.

“Sylvain.”

He swallowed, smoothed a hand up over Felix’s thigh, and very carefully pushed in.

They both caught their breath, and Felix pressed his forehead into the pillow. Sylvain’s fingers dug into the soft skin of Felix’s hips, but neither of them noticed in the moment. Sylvain’s focus was narrowing, his mind couldn’t move past sensation, and he didn’t even hear when Felix said his name.

Pressed all the way in, Sylvain stopped. If he kept moving in that moment he wouldn’t be able to stop from climaxing almost instantly. He dropped down to his forearms, his chest pressed flush to Felix’s back, and tried to catch his breath. He pressed his face into Felix’s neck, and spoke into his skin. “Are you all right?”

Felix didn’t reply right away. He was breathing hard, finally he said, “I am not made of glass.”

Sylvain exhaled a laugh. He kissed Felix’s shoulder, and then lifted his face to look at Felix. His face was completely red, Sylvain hadn’t even seen him this winded during training. Felix turned his head toward him slightly; the look in his eyes was burning.

“Move,” Felix said.

He moved.

It was an exercise in self-control to move slowly. It wasn’t just the sensation of being inside Felix’s body; it was the knowledge that he was allowed this, being giving this, sharing in this. Felix trusted him. Sylvain fought with his instinct to simply thrust in, and instead remembered the way Felix had blushed when Sylvain called him beautiful.

Slowly, Sylvain moved. He had never felt so intensely _good_ before. Every nerve in his body was alight, every time he pushed in, more emotion spilled from his heart, like water in an overflowing cup; his whole body was filled with it.

Every thrust was better than the last. Every sound Felix made, every cooperative move, every inch of skin pressed against Sylvain’s own, all of these were gifts. Sylvain wanted them to press even closer together. He never wanted to stop hearing the way Felix’s uneven breathing was timed with every moment, and he never wanted to stop feeling this incredible heat.

Sylvain reached down to stroke Felix, stupidly pleased with how hard he was, and then felt Felix tighten around his cock when he thumbed the slit. Sylvain was going to lose his mind with how good it felt.

“Move,” Felix said brokenly, “faster – ” and broke off on a moan.

Sylvain’s heart throbbed at the same time as his cock pulsed with heat. He stopped altogether, a heroic effort of willpower, and pressed his forehead to Felix’s shoulder, breathing hard.

“What - ?” Felix began, but Sylvain took a shaky breath, kissed the back of Felix’s head, and carefully pulled out.

“Turn around,” Sylvain said, as he reached out to help him do just that.

Felix did, and attempted to glare at Sylvain. “What – “ he tried again, but Sylvain was already pulling Felix toward him, grasping his waist, Felix slid slightly, and his breath caught as Sylvain, up on his knees, fit himself back between Felix’s thighs.

He pushed back in, feeling a welcoming oiled heat that he had to close his eyes against. Opening them again, Sylvain said, honestly, “I wanted to see you.”

This was better, Sylvain thought as he began to move again. Felix was a vision, the way it felt to look at him in that moment was almost painful. So many things with Felix were so incredibly pleasurable they almost tipped over to pain, Sylvain felt as if he were right on the cusp of it, if he felt any better than this he would simply shatter.

Every shift in Felix’s expression was breathtaking. Sylvain could see the pulse in his throat when Felix pressed his head back, he could see his fists grip the bedding, the way his body strained, and rocked, and the hard line of his cock, the most obvious proof that Felix wanted this as much as Sylvain did.

Sylvain was hot all over, love and pleasure singing in perfect harmony inside him. Felix moved with him, he said Sylvain’s name on a gasp, and a shiver of heat ran up Sylvain’s spine. Glorious pressure was mounting in him; it was for, and because of Felix.

He could feel Felix begin to tense, and felt his own control start to fade with that sensation.

Felix suddenly opened his eyes, and lifted his arms to Sylvain, “You are too – far –” He breathed.

Sylvain practically fell with how quickly he dropped down. Felix made an indignant noise, and hit Sylvain’s arm.

“I did _not_ say to crush me,” Felix growled.

“No,” Sylvain agreed, “You asked me to fu – “

Felix wrapped his legs around Sylvain’s waist more tightly, and rocked very hard. Sylvain lost what little breath he had left.

“Shut – up,” Felix managed to get out.

For once, Sylvain didn’t try to make a smart remark; instead he kissed Felix.

He soon found his rhythm again. The kisses they shared became frantic and uncoordinated, Sylvain’s restraint was slipping, and Felix did nothing but encourage him to let it go.

“Does it – feel good?” Sylvain asked on Felix’s lips.

“ _Yes_.”

More than good, it felt like the only true thing in Sylvain’s life. Like the only thing that had ever been freely given, and best of all, given in love.

When Felix tensed this time, Sylvain urged him on. He strove to press in deeper, to move only in the way that made Felix gasp. Reaching down, he took hold of Felix again, touching him the way he knew he liked. Felix’s hold on Sylvain tightened, he shook, and came with a choked cry. Sylvain, unprepared for the way that would feel, lost himself too. His vision went black, and he couldn’t hear his own harsh breathing for the blood rushing in his ears.

They clung together for a long while after. Sweat cooled on their skin, and their breathing evened, but they both held on tightly.

Finally, Sylvain lifted his head. He looked at Felix, who looked back at him with beautiful dark eyes, “I love you,” he said, meaning it, _feeling_ it.

Felix swallowed. He looked away, and then looked back. “I – “ Felix began. “I – “ He tried again.

Sylvain leaned down, and kissed him very softly. “However long it takes,” Sylvain said, “I will wait to hear it.”

The way Felix looked at him then was almost better than the sex.

Sylvain almost said something to that effect, but, wisely, kept it to himself. So, perhaps he was growing as a person.

When they finally untangled themselves, Sylvain went immediately to help clean Felix up. He brought him water, a damp washcloth, and when he was clean threw a blanket over his shoulders.

Felix gave him a dry look. “I’m not a child,” he said, putting the cup of water down.

Sylvain, who had put on Felix’s own robe, smiled. “I never said you were.” He replied good naturedly, “Would you like a bath?”

Felix shook his head, “The water is too cold.”

“I’ll ask for more.”

“Are you an idiot?”

Sylvain turned to look at him, “Oh,” he said, “I suppose it is late. I can go heat water for you. Do you want something to eat too? I think I might – “

“Come here,” Felix broke in.

He went. Felix reached up, the blanket slipping from his shoulders, took Sylvain’s face between his hands, and said, “Stop clucking like a mother hen and just stay with me.”

Completely ignoring the insult, Sylvain beamed. “Okay,” he said.

Felix turned the bedding down; they had pushed the soiled bedding onto the floor, and laid themselves out together. Without thinking, Sylvain reached out and pulled Felix into his arms. He felt Felix tense, and then relax.

“How do you feel?” Sylvain asked, gently stroking his shoulder.

“What did I just say?”

“I can’t inquire about the well being of the man I love?”

Felix didn’t say anything, and Sylvain shifted slightly to see his face. Felix was blushing. When he caught Sylvain looking, he pushed Sylvain’s face away and scowled. Sylvain laughed, and hugged him harder.

“You know, you are actually very cute.”

“You would be too, if you only shut up.”

Moving his hand to Felix’s hair, Sylvain felt the blunt edges, and sighed mourfully.

“What?”

Felix was resting his head on Sylvain’s shoulder, and Sylvain lifted a lock of Felix’s hair, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see.

“You cut your hair.” He explained.

“So?”

“So,” Sylvain echoed, “I liked how long it was.”

Felix lifted his head to look at him, and his hair slipped through Sylvain’s fingers. He raised an eyebrow at Sylvain. “You care that much?”

“No,” said Sylvain, “Except, yes. It’s just,” Sylvain wasn’t sure how to explain it; he half shrugged. “The length suits you.” He picked up another lock of Felix’s hair, lifted his head, and kissed the uneven edge.

“Fine,” Felix said, like he was hassled, “I’ll grow it again.”

Sylvain smiled slowly. “Cute,” he said again.

“Shut up,” Felix said, half sitting up, taking Sylvain’s hands, and pressing them up over Sylvain’s head.

Sylvain, thrilled, and not at all repentant, opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Felix’s kiss.

The night was very long, and outside the wind kicked up the snow on the ground. But, neither Sylvain nor Felix felt any chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE MORE ART, WHAT???? I've embedded the actual image in chapter 8 because it features Felix wearing the jade hair clasp, and that's when we first see him wear it, but you can view it [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-8GC96JL3S/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)! Shoutout to maximus.artimus for drawing it, it's so lovely!!!! 
> 
> Omg, that sex scene has been rewritten at least 5 or 6 times. That is the most I have ever struggled with one, and I'm not totally sure why, but everything was just, I dunno, off beat? Anyway, I finally have something I'm happy with, and I really hope this time it flowed nicely. 
> 
> I haven't decided yet if there will be one or two more chapters, it depends how long this next part is, but that'll be all! Thanks so much for sticking with me this long, y'all are the very best! Take care, stay safe, and healthy!!!! <333


	11. A place to return to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so used to writing wholesome supportive parents/parental figures that writing Sylvain's dad is a trip! Please be advised that he's the worst in this chapter!!! 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 11!

I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall  
And the greatest miracle of all  
Is how I need you  
And how you needed me too  
That hasn't happened for the longest time

 _The Longest Time_ \- Billy Joel

The first thing Felix noticed as he began to wake was that he was warm, very warm. Opening his eyes he was greeted with the sight of a well-defined collarbone. It was suddenly a few degrees warmer.

Felix felt his heartbeat pick up as the night before came back to him. He was so incredibly happy, and he felt the sudden urge to run from it, to somehow undo it, it was so much, he was too happy.

Closing his eyes, Felix exhaled slowly. He let himself take comfort in Sylvain’s warmth, in his solid presence, and the words he had spoken to Felix the night before. Felix stayed still until his heart rate evened out, this was allowed, there was no need to keep running, this was his now.

Felix eased out of bed, doing his best not to disturb Sylvain. Felix’s head, and eyes hurt from lack of sleep, he was sore all over. Sylvain probably wasn’t quite as bad off as Felix was, but he had the luxury of sleep, and Felix wasn’t going to take that from him. Felix could be petty, but not that petty, usually.

Quietly gathering clean clothes, Felix made his way to the bathing room. He desperately needed a hot bath, but that would have to wait until tonight, for now Felix endured the cold water, more than a little used to the chill.

As he washed Felix avoided looking at all the marks on his skin, standing out in stark contrast to his pale complexion, like bright spots in darkness, like rays of sunlight through cloud. He refused to focus on them, or remember in explicit detail how they had gotten there.

Felix got dressed quickly. The chill from the water was a shock after how warm he had been waking up, but he ignored it. Going over his schedule for the day in his mind, Felix tied his hair up, adding the jade hair clasp on an afterthought, because he liked it and for no other reason. Felix finished getting ready while he went over the details of a report he was drafting in his mind, and didn’t think about Sylvain at all.

When he was done, he could hardly smell the scent of honey anymore, and couldn’t decide if that was a shame or not.

Felix pushed that from his mind, and quietly went out into the bedroom.

Sylvain was still sleeping, he had shifted slightly, his face pressed into the pillow Felix had been using. Felix paused as he walked passed the bed. The blanket had slipped; Sylvain’s shoulder was visible. He tended to run warmer than Felix did, but it was cold, and if Sylvain got sick again he would be a pain to care for. Felix went over to fix the blanket.

Just as Felix reached out, Sylvain stirred. Felix froze, waited, and when he thought Sylvain might have gone back to sleep, he blinked his eyes open. They focused on Felix immediately, and Sylvain smiled. Felix felt his heart rate pick up, something warm and fluttery moved in his stomach.

“You sleep too much,” Felix said by way of greeting.

“Good morning,” Sylvain rasped, he was smiling.

Felix refused to let his stomach fill with butterflies that were apparently made not only of heat, but of light, and air, he wasn’t going to let them buoy him, his feet would stay firmly planted on the ground. “Since you have nothing to do, make sure the sheets are changed.”

“Of course,” said Sylvain, sitting up and scrapping a hand through his hair, it stuck out at all angles. “Will you be busy all day?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have time for dinner?”

“Are you asking me if I will eat today? I will.”

Sylvain shook his head, every look he gave Felix was fond, and it was almost irritating. In this mood Sylvain wouldn’t let any of Felix’s barbs prick him, he dodged them effortlessly, Felix couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been so indulgent of him.

He watched as Sylvain shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the blanket falling around his bare waist, and reached out to take his hand. Felix let him, feeling his touch like fire; Felix’s hands were always cold.

“Then, let’s have dinner together.”

“I will be eating in the mess hall, and unless you eat elsewhere, we will be together.”

“No,” Sylvain said, he laughed a little, but his laughter wasn’t of the same quality as it usually was, it was slightly tense, almost sheepish. “I meant, just the two of us. And, tomorrow, if the weather’s fair, let’s ride out together. Or visit the greenhouse, it’s always nice to see something living and green in the midst of winter.”

“What the blazes are you saying?”

Felix expected Sylvain to laugh off Felix’s remark, to make a joke, but he looked down at their hands, and surprisingly, blushed.

“I am trying to court you,” he said. “Do you not like it?”

Felix stared at him. A million different insults, cutting words, and ways to shoot him down sprang into his mind, but none of those things were anything Felix actually _wanted_ to say. The silence stretched, and Sylvain’s face began to take on a panicked expression.

“I thought, “ Sylvain said, “it would be nice. I’m not sure, a gesture, perhaps? I have never done this before; not with anyone I loved, I just, I wanted to do it right. If you would prefer not to – “

“I never said that.” Sylvain looked at him, and Felix felt himself flush. “Anyway, don’t pretend you would let me stop you, you are too stubborn for your own good.”

This time Sylvain’s laughter was light and happy. He tugged on Felix’s hand. Felix put up a token resistance, but then let himself be pulled forward, sighing, like he was being put out. Felix let Sylvain pull him to stand between his knees, and let Sylvain put his arms around his waist. Felix let himself be held.

Sylvain looked up at him, his eyes were like amber, “Have I said yet how good that looks on you?” Sylvain said, his gaze clearly on the hair ornament.

“You have,” replied Felix, “Many times. I almost traded it for a whetstone on my way to the Sreng boarder.”

Sylvain looked at him like he wasn’t sure if Felix was joking or not. “Well,” he said, “I’m glad you kept it. It was my mother’s, I don’t think I ever mentioned that.”

He hadn’t. Felix looked at Sylvain in surprise. He felt a sudden pressure in his chest, he felt warm, and it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

“I – I did not know.” Felix said, in a quieter tone added, “Thank you.”

The way Sylvain smiled at him made Felix want to leave at the same time that it made him want to embrace Sylvain tightly.

“You can consider it a courtship gift.”

Felix had to look away, he was on the verge of saying something mean, or perhaps something very sweet; he could feel it. It was rising up in him like the emotion suddenly welling in his heart.

“I have to go,” Felix said instead, not quite managing his usual tone.

Sylvain nodded, he let go of Felix, and took hold of his hands instead. Lifting them up, he kissed Felix’s fingers. “Go,” Sylvain said, looking back up at him, the smile that Felix saw in his dreams lighting up Sylvain’s expression. “Do what needs to be done, and then come back. I will wait for you.”

“Don’t idle,” Felix replied, “Do something useful with your time. Train, you layabout.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Felix glared at him, and Sylvain released his hands. “Have a good day,” said Sylvain.

Felix didn’t reply, just took a step back, before turning and making his way out. As soon as he was out of the bedroom, Felix smiled.

**

“What is that?”

“Is that a rhetorical question? Flowers, as you can see.”

Sylvain watched as Felix eyed him, making no move to accept the flowers Sylvain was holding out to him.

“Did you get these from the greenhouse?” When Sylvain nodded, Felix’s eyebrows rose. “You are offering me my own flowers?”

Sighing, Sylvain plucked one, a soft pink gladiolus, and stepping forward, and tucked it carefully into the hair behind Felix’s ear. “Why are you making this difficult?” Sylvain asked, softly, watching colour rise in Felix’s cheeks, “It is a gesture, do you really not want to accept?”

Felix glanced away; he took the flowers without looking and crossed the room to enter his study. Sylvain watched him, in his daydreams this had gone more smoothly.

When Felix came back out of his study, dropping off the papers he had been carrying, Sylvain noted with some pleasure that Felix had left the flower behind his ear. He carried the small bouquet back out and put them in a vase on the windowsill of the sitting room. Felix took out the lavender already sitting there and replaced them with Sylvain’s flowers.

“My father wrote to me,” Sylvain said.

Felix turned to look at him; his hair was tied in a bun at the top of his head. He pulled out the tie and let it fall loose; he had two adornments in his hair on either side of his head, the jade clasp, and the pink flower. “Oh?”

Sylvain nodded. He went to the service table, it sat only a couple feet from the window, and pouring Felix a cup of water, he said, “He demands I return.” Sylvain handed Felix the water, and leaned against the sill. “I wrote the Beaumonts before I left informing them of the cessation of my betrothal to Beatrice, it may be that my father knows now too.” Felix had taken the cup, but didn’t drink from it; he was watching Sylvain. “I will need to return soon and make it clear to him that my decision stands.”

Looking down at the cup he held in both hands, Felix asked, “When will you leave?”

Sylvain sighed, “I wanted to stay at least a week, but I think I will need to set out sooner rather than later. The day after next, I think.”

Felix nodded once. “I will go with you.”

Surprised, Sylvain didn’t reply right away. “You don’t need to – “ he began.

Felix put the cup down on the sill and met Sylvain’s gaze, “I know what it means to you to confront him. I will go.”

This particular gesture wasn’t something Sylvain had been expecting. The gifts were easier to understand than this was. Emotion welled in him, and Sylvain’s heart ached with it. He didn’t want Felix to hear his voice waver, so he nodded, Felix nodded back, and then looked away, he seemed suddenly shy.

“That is completely unfair,” Felix shot him a confused look as Sylvain walked toward him. “You can’t be the shy one after saying something like that.” Sylvain said, and kissed him.

Later they lay together. Neither of them having the patience to completely undress, boots, stockings, and trousers littered the floor, Sylvain’s jacket was open, but still on, the collar of his shirt unlaced. Felix wore only his undershirt, he had pulled it back down now, and it covered patches of red skin Sylvain had left only moments before. He had also carefully taken the flower from his hair and placed it on the bedside table before pushing Sylvain down. Now, Sylvain got up on one elbow to look at Felix. He was breathing evenly again, and turned his head to look at Sylvain when he propped himself up.

“What?”

Sylvain smiled. “This is nice.”

Felix looked away. Sylvain thought he would never get tired of seeing him react like that, Felix’s shyness was endearing, more so when Felix wasn’t trying to hit Sylvain to cover it up.

Leaning down, Sylvain kissed Felix’s forehead, and then sat up. He pulled his jacket off, and tossed it aside. His shirt he took off as well, but this he balled up and then reached for Felix. He felt Felix’s eyes on him as he used his shirt to wipe him off. “Shall I call for hot water?”

“Not yet.”

He met Felix’s gaze, unable to help himself, Sylvain leaned down to kiss him again.

Felix kissed him sweetly; like he _felt_ every kiss he gave Sylvain. Something in Sylvain came alive when Felix kissed him; the sun that warmed Sylvain’s chest never set now, it shone and shone.

When they drew apart, Sylvain was already smiling; he couldn’t help it. The corner of Felix’s mouth quirked up, but he rolled his eyes, “You are too easily appeased.”

“You would know.”

Felix shoved at him, and Sylvain laughed. He caught Felix’s hand and kissed his palm.

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain was sitting up again, moving to the edge of the bed “Hmm?”

There was no reply, so Sylvain turned to look at him. Felix wasn’t looking back; he was lightly flushed. He glanced at Sylvain from the corner of his eye, and then shook his head. He sat up too, and then stood. “Nothing,” Felix said.

Frowning Sylvain stood as well, Felix went into the bathing room, and Sylvain let him go. He picked up his trousers, and put them and his boots back on. Making only enough effort to look somewhat presentable.

“I’ll be back in a moment!” He called, but got no reply.

Sylvain went down to the kitchens sending servants to fetch Felix water for his bath as he went. If the household staff had had any question about the nature of Sylvain and Felix’s relationship before, they most definitely had none now. In the morning, after Felix left, Sylvain was still roaming around Felix’s room in a loosely tied robe when the maids came in to clean. Sylvain had greeted them, and made no effort to conceal why he was there, and what had very obviously happened the night before. He had asked them where he might get more of the honey-scented oil.

None of Sylvain’s things were in his guest room, though he knew it was being cleaned and maintained as well, but Sylvain hadn’t set foot in it since arriving. Felix hadn’t said anything about that either, and Sylvain decided to take that as an invitation to stay.

There hadn’t been time for them to dine together that evening. Sylvain had cornered Felix in the hall on his way to another meeting and made Felix promise him they would have supper together tomorrow. Now Sylvain was putting together a plate of food for them to share. Noura, his favourite cook was there, and helped him after asking in a very knowing way, “This is for the two of you?” When he had said yes, Noura had beamed at him, but made no other remark. Sylvain left with a heavy tray he didn’t think they would eat half of, and made his way back to Felix’s room.

The door was already open, and Sylvain found servants filing through hauling hot water. Felix had put trousers back on as well, but his feet were bare, Sylvain was cold only looking at him. He set the food down at the foot of the bed, and thanked the staff as they left.

“Shall I wash your back?”

Felix gave him an unimpressed look, and turned, making for his bathing room. Sylvain, undiscouraged, followed him in.

Drawing his shirt off, Felix said, “If you are thinking of bathing together, think again.”

“Why?”

Sylvain stood by the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Felix undress. His clothes had been loosely tied, and fell from him without effort. Felix didn’t try to hide his nakedness either, there was the faintest colour in his face as he stepped into the bath, but that could be because it was quite warm, there was steam wafting up off the water.

Felix exhaled as he sat, his knees were drawn up, but he had some room to move. As much as Sylvain did want to join him, there was no real way they would fit. Felix turned to look at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Observation is clearly not one of your skills.”

Smiling, Sylvain pushed off the wall and turned to his left where a small stool sat. Picking it up, he went to the opposite wall from the door and took a towel off one of the shelves, and then set the stool down by the tub so it sat at Felix’s back. He pushed the basket with all of Felix’s bathing things closer to the stool and then sat down.

“What are you doing?”

Sylvain rolled up his sleeves, “You did not say ‘no’ to my help.”

“So you assumed that it was a ‘yes’? That is a rather dangerous assumption.”

Pausing, Sylvain leaned to the side slightly so he could look at Felix, “Are you asking me to leave then?”

Felix didn’t reply right away, he picked up a pitcher from the basket, twisting slightly to reach it, filled it with water from the bath, and then passed it back to Sylvain without looking. “If you pull on my hair, I am sending you out.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Sylvain replied, taking the pitcher.

Sylvain was sitting upright again, and couldn’t see Felix’s expression, but he would bet almost anything he was scowling.

Carefully, and with the dawning realization that he did not entirely know what he was doing, Sylvain began to pour water over Felix’s hair. “Tip your head back.”

Felix obeyed. He didn’t argue or make any smart remarks, just did as he was asked, eyes closed, his shoulders down, and waited for Sylvain to care for him. Sylvain swallowed, and slowly poured the water over Felix’s head.

When all his hair was wet, Felix lifted his head back up. Sylvain set the pitcher back on the floor and turned to the basket. It was filled with bottles and flasks, a few different bars of soap, and a sponge.

“Are there, uh,” Sylvain said, “any particular products you prefer to use?”

“You are the worst body servant to ever attend me.” Felix said shifting, the water threatening to spill from the tub as Felix half turned to look into the basket. He glanced up and met Sylvain’s gaze.

Sylvain leaned down to kiss him, drawing back he said, “If you teach me, you will find I’m a fast learner. And,” he added, “I promise to practice.”

“And I’m to be your test subject?”

“Unless you’re suggesting I wash someone else’s hair?”

Felix glanced down; he reached into the basket and pulled out different coloured bottles and a bar of soap, passing them to Sylvain without looking. “Is that something you would want to do?”

The words were quiet, if they hadn’t been so close together, and the room so silent; Sylvain might have had trouble hearing them. He frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said, “What are you asking?”

He could see Felix’s profile clearly but Felix wouldn’t meet his eyes, his hands were fists resting on top of his knees.

“Felix,” Sylvain said slowly, “Are you suggesting that I would _want_ to do this with someone else?”

Felix didn’t reply. He turned his head away, his dark hair dripping water onto his bare shoulder.

Sylvain was surprised by how much that hurt him. He put the things Felix had passed to him down, and gripped the edge of the tub. He took a breath, but before he could say anything, Felix spoke.

“I’m not – I do not think – “ Felix broke off with a small, frustrated noise. He exhaled and turned back so he was facing forward again, his gaze on his hands. “I am not a woman,” he said finally.

There was a pause in which Sylvain waited for Felix to continue, assuming there would be more. When nothing came, Sylvain frowned more deeply.

“No,” Sylvain agreed. “I was never under the impression that you were.”

Felix shot him a look, and then sighed. “You always – ” Felix began, as if he had to push all the words out. Sylvain wondered if Felix had intentionally put himself in a position where it would be difficult for him to run before he brought up this conversation. “ – Always talked about how much you – “ He broke off as if searching for the right word, “ – _enjoy_ women.” Sylvain winced, but didn’t interrupt. “But, that aside, there are still things to consider about this relationship. For one thing, there will never be children.”

“Why?” Sylvain asked thoughtlessly. That finally got Felix to look at him, absolutely incredulously. Before Felix could say something about his intelligence, Sylvain hastily added, “I mean, I know no children will be born to us together, but it does not necessarily follow that we may not raise any together, if that is something you wish. The war left many orphans, I would welcome them into a home of our own.”

Felix stared at him. His breathing was slightly elevated; his eyes were wide, and bright. “As for my, ah, _enjoyment_ of women,” Sylvain grimaced slightly, and then paused to consider his next words. “You know, I never really contemplated my attraction to men before.” He shrugged, letting go of the tub to rest his forearms on the lip instead, leaning forward slightly. “I suppose I was so focused on the wife my father might one day pick out for me it simply never crossed my mind. But,” Sylvain said seriously, “I’m sorry to say you are not the first man to catch my fancy.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, because Sylvain knew him so well, he could tell Felix was trying not to smile. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Sylvain confirmed, nodding. “There was a soldier from the Alliance’s army, and, ah, when I was young, a stable boy.” Felix’s eyebrows rose higher. “And you?”

Suddenly interested in running his fingers through the water, Felix looked away. Sylvain waited. Finally he said, “There has only ever been you.”

As easily has he had hurt Sylvain, Felix filled him with light.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. Sylvain tried again, and found he was still coming up short. He didn’t have words for the way that confession hit his heart. It was like a physical blow. Sylvain had never been good at brawling, completely unguarded; Sylvain took the full force of it, and was left speechless.

Felix glanced up at him through dark lashes, his hair still slicked back from the water, his skin flushed pink, and his eyes bright.

“Felix,” Sylvain breathed, unable to look away from him. “Will you marry me?”

There was a beat in which Felix didn’t react, as if he hadn’t heard Sylvain, and then suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. Colour suffused his face, creeping up his neck, this time Sylvain knew his flush had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

Sylvain leapt up suddenly, obviously startling Felix who leaned back, “Wait! Wait just one moment!” He ran out of the room, knocking over the stool as he went, and dropped to his knees in front of the armchair in Felix’s bedchamber where his bag sat. He rummaged through it furiously, wishing he had had the presence of mind to make alterations sooner, snatched up the small velvet box he had brought with him, and ran back to Felix.

Dropping to his knees once more, ignoring the way they hit stone, he looked at Felix who was staring at him mouth open.

“Sorry,” Sylvain said, breathlessly, “I just – I should have done this sooner, properly, I mean. I made assumptions, of course, but – “ he shook his head quickly. “I had no time to have something made with this, as I intended to. Well, I wanted to know your answer first before I made any changes, and – “ Sylvain broke off again, looking away, and waving a hand impatiently, as if someone else had interrupted him. “That is not important, I apologize, I’m just,” he exhaled, forcing himself to do it slowly to try and regain his footing. “What I’m trying to say is,” Sylvain leaned his forearms on the tub again, holding the box between the fingers of both hands, looking at Felix again. He watched Felix’s gaze flick down to the box, and back up to Sylvain. Felix was breathing more quickly again, his hands, curled into tight fists on his knees, were shaking. “This was my mother’s. It was meant for my wife, but I am choosing to give it to you, and asking that you be my husband.” He opened the box, and stretched slightly so it was a bit closer to Felix. “Will you marry me?”

Felix stared at the ring being offered to him, but made no move to take it. As the seconds ticked by, Sylvain’s stomach began to twist with dread.

“Unless,” Sylvain began, feeling his heart fill with lead, “You don’t – “

Abruptly, Felix shifted. He moved forward, kneeling in front of Sylvain, who had moved back to make room for him, his arms tucked to his sides now, the box still in front of him, pressed against his chest.

It seemed as if Felix was searching his gaze for something; Sylvain stayed still.

“You are,” Felix said, looking directly at him, “an idiot.” And kissed him.

Felix’s hands on Sylvain’s face were wet, and his trembling touch was as soft as his kiss.

When Felix drew back, he looked down at the ring Sylvain was still holding. Sylvain’s mother’s ring was a simple gold band, with two small diamonds on either side of a fair sized ruby. “I doubt that will fit my smallest finger.” Felix said, pitching his voice lower, trying to hide how breathless he was.

“I’ll see that it fits your ring finger.” Sylvain replied, smiling.

Felix looked away, and then sat back down, water sloshing around him. “The water is getting cold,” he said.

Sylvain helped Felix bathe, doing his best not to pull on his hair as requested. When he was done Felix left to let Sylvain wash, who was far less gentle, and much more quick with his own bathing.

Coming back into the bedchamber, he found Felix in his nightshirt sitting on the bed. He had moved the food Sylvain had brought to sit on top of a dresser. Sylvain’s hair was still dripping water, and he wore nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. As he approached the bed, Felix rose to his knees, openly appraising him. Sylvain had never failed to notice the way Felix couldn’t seem to help looking at his body.

“Take off the towel, and lie down,” Felix said.

Sylvain did as he was told.

Felix leaned down to kiss him once, and then drew back. He reached out to touch Sylvain’s shoulder, tracing the line of a pale scar. Sylvain glanced at it, it was the scar left from the arrow he had been hit with at the Sreng boarder. Felix kissed the scar, letting his hand slide down Sylvain’s chest.

For once, Felix’s touch wasn’t cool, his hands were warm, and they touched him gently, softly, as if Sylvain were made of fine crystal.

Felix moved to kneel in front of him, gently nudging Sylvain’s legs apart. Sylvain felt his heartbeat pick up as he did, his mind racing.

Felix reached up to touch him again, this time with both hands, palm flat, sliding down his torso, touching Sylvain like he couldn’t help it.

Then, he shifted back again, and lowered himself between Sylvain’s thighs.

Anticipation thrummed through Sylvain so strongly, that just the exhale of Felix’s warm breath on him made Sylvain gasp. When he gently sucked on the tip, Sylvain threw his head back, and groaned. He was already gripping the sheets under him. He was acting as if Felix hadn’t touched him weeks, instead of just the night before, but he couldn’t help his reactions. There was still something so new about this intimacy that it sent Sylvain’s nerves into frenzy.

Every hot lick of Felix’s tongue was sweet agony. Sylvain was close so quickly he would have been embarrassed if he had room in his mind for anything other than sensation. He had managed to force his eyes open for one moment, and saw Felix’s dark head between his legs, his hair tickled Sylvain’s thighs. He watched as Felix’s head slowly drew back up, and felt his tongue swirl. Sylvain’s eyes closed automatically in pleasure.

“Fe – lix – “ was all Sylvain managed to get out before he came. He grit his teeth against the feel of it, unaware of how his body curled, or how hard Felix was gripping his hips.

Breathing hard, he felt Felix sit up, and then move to sit beside him. Opening his eyes, he saw Felix gaze down at him, his damp hair fell over one shoulder, and when Sylvain reached out to him, Felix leaned down to kiss him. He could taste himself in Felix’s mouth, something he had never particularly enjoyed with other partners, but there was an almost triumphant feeling in him to do it now.

When Felix pulled back, Sylvain cupped his face, looked into his beautiful dark eyes, and said, “I love you.”

His gaze unwavering, Felix replied, “I know.”

Sylvain smiled, and then laughed, he kissed Felix, still laughing until Felix hit him.

He tried to draw Felix down, but Felix wouldn’t let him. He sat back up and nodded his head to the bedside table Sylvain was closest to.

“Get the oil.”

Sylvain did. Since he knew where to obtain it now, he had made sure they were well stocked.

Rolling onto his back once more, he was met with more of Felix’s kisses; desire giving his sweetness a delicious edge.

Sylvain reached out, pushing up the shirt that gathered at Felix’s hips, and found him already hard. He stroked Felix quickly, matching the urgency of their kisses, before Felix stopped his hand. Breaking the kiss, Felix said, his face very close to Sylvain’s, “Not yet.”

He sat back up, and drew off his nightshirt. Some of the marks Sylvain had left on him the night before had faded, but others lingered. Sylvain had been careful not to leave any on his neck, at least, none that would be visible in Felix’s regular clothing.

“Sit up.”

Sylvain got up, not yet consciously aware of the fact that he enjoyed this commanding Felix, and doing as he said.

Felix climbed onto his lap, opened the bottle of oil, and then pressed it into Sylvain’s hand. Putting his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders, Felix spoke in his ear, “Go slow.”

Sylvain shivered, feeling his body suffuse with heat once more. He had to angle his hands to the side to see what he was doing, and pass the bottle back to Felix to stopper it.

It was less than elegant, probably a better idea in theory than in practice. Sylvain smeared a fair amount of oil on Felix’s skin groping blindly, but he couldn’t deny that this position had its benefits. Felix’s breathing in Sylvain’s ear, his body pressed flush to Sylvain’s, he could feel every jerk of Felix’s hips, and ever quiver of his muscles. Sylvain’s own desire was slowly mounting again.

Sylvain had to bend his arm and wrist at an awkward angle, but he didn’t complain. The way Felix was reacting was worth any temporary discomfort.

Felix’s forehead was pressed to Sylvain’s shoulder, and he had to coax him to lift it. His dark eyes were half lidded, and he bit his lip when Sylvain pressed his fingers into him again.

Sylvain kissed him, feeling Felix’s body open to him, slowly, but slightly more readily than the first time. If he had ten lifetimes, they would not be enough to love Felix. Not just in a passionate or physical way, as now, but in quiet moments, in the intimacy of slow mornings, in the rush of battle, and in the frustration of needless arguments. Sylvain wanted it all, again and again, for innumerable years, and perhaps then – perhaps then he would finally find his desire to _know_ Felix sated. He would finally feel as if his soul centred on his own being, and did not always cry out for Felix.

Breathing hard, Sylvain found himself fully roused once more, and beginning to move with Felix when he rolled his hips.

“Enough,” Felix pronounced, breathlessly, drawing back to look at Sylvain.

Withdrawing his fingers carefully, Sylvain waited for Felix to give him instructions, intuiting correctly that they would come. “Lie back down.”

He did. Felix on the other hand stayed where he was, and Sylvain’s heart raced.

Rising on his knees, Felix turned slightly to look behind him, grasped Sylvain’s erect cock, and slowly lowered himself on it. Sylvain’s hands went automatically to Felix’s hips, gripping tightly as heat engulfed him. He heard Felix’s breath stutter out of him, and watched as Felix, eyebrows drawn in concentration, braced himself on Sylvain’s chest, and slowly sank all the way down.

Sylvain shook with the effort of keeping still. He wanted very much to jerk his hips up, or to flip Felix on to his back and thrust in. Closing his eyes, Sylvain forced himself to breathe, realizing that he had been holding his breath while Felix moved.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Felix had his head down. “Felix?” He asked softly, his voice hoarse. Sylvain felt him exhale, and then look up. He was flushed, and dark eyed, and said nothing in reply, simply sat back up slowly, and then experimentally rocked his hips.

Sylvain’s grip tightened, and Felix gasped. He had to make himself open his eyes; he wanted so badly to _watch_. Felix’s expression, the way his body moved, and the way his mouth fell open in pleasure, Sylvain wanted to remember it all forever. Felix was a thing of dreams, sublime, and far too good to be true.

Felix had not objected to Sylvain’s suggestion of a home together, or to the possibility of children between them. It hadn’t always been something Sylvain wanted, and he realized now it was only because he had been thinking about this future with the assumption his marriage would be loveless. He hadn’t wanted to subject children to a union like that, but this – this was different.

They couldn’t physically conceive any children, but it would certainly not be for lack of trying.

Finding a rhythm, they moved together. Sylvain eventually letting go of Felix’s hips to offer him his hands, which Felix grasped tightly, and used to balance himself.

Felix was a vision. His beauty bright and breathtaking, like the edge of a blade honed to perfection, strong, and awe-inspiring. The way Felix's body moved, every shift of his hips, and the expression of pleasure on his face were breaking Sylvain open. Sylvain wanted it, he wanted to be broken open, broken down, so that all that was left was this feeling, and the experience of Felix moving above him, mindlessly taking pleasure in Sylvain's body. 

Felix moved automatically in the way that felt good to him, and it was sending Sylvain dangerously close to the edge. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, but he couldn’t block out sensation, his pleasure mounting, he choked out, “Wait, Felix, I’m going to – “

Instead of slowing down, Felix sped up. Sylvain opened his mouth in a wordless cry, no breath left to make a sound, as his climax shook itself out of him. He was awash in heat and pleasure, this orgasm deeper than the last. He heard Felix’s breath catch, then felt his movements finally slow, and stop.

He had closed his eyes at the height of it, and opening them found that Felix had not finished yet.

“Sorry,” Sylvain got out, breathless.

Gingerly, Felix got off him, and Sylvain worried that he had gripped Felix’s hands too hard, his own fingers hurt from how tightly he had been holding on. Felix sat against the headboard next to him, watching as Sylvain tried to catch his breath.

They gazed at each other, and when Sylvain felt he could finally move again, he got up. “Lie down, I’ll – “

“No.”

Sylvain paused, and then amended, “Okay,” and began to lower his head.

“No,” said Felix again, catching his shoulder.

Sylvain looked up at him puzzled; surely he didn’t mean to stay like this.

“Come here.”

Thoughtlessly obedient, Sylvain shifted to sit next to him. Felix took his hand, and placed it on his hard length, Sylvain’s fingers curled automatically. With the other hand he drew Sylvain’s face close, Sylvain thought he meant to kiss him, but he did not. Instead Felix pressed his forehead to Sylvain’s, and closed his eyes.

“Slow,” Felix instructed, his voice filling only the space between them.

Sylvain worked slowly. Felix’s moans were hushed, as if he didn’t want any noise he made to move past Sylvain. He bit his lip, and shuddered out his gasps, one hand gripping Sylvain’s shoulder, and the other still over Sylvain’s own hand.

There was something about this quiet pleasure that made it acutely intimate. Felix was asking for something in particular, he wanted Sylvain exactly this way, and he wanted this for only them.

Just when Sylvain’s own body was starting to heat with renewed interest, Felix tensed. He tilted his head slightly to catch Sylvain’s lips briefly before he gasped against them, and came.

Sylvain felt a rush of heat, as if the orgasm were his own, breathing harder, his chest too small for all the feelings that lived there.

Dark eyes met his, gazes half lidded; they kissed. Soft, slow, open mouth kisses that almost tasted better than Sylvain felt in that moment. He wished he could live in it forever, in a perfect moment of love and communion.

Resting his forehead against Felix’s again for beat, they breathed together. Sylvain willed Felix to feel all the love that moved in him. He felt as if his heart bellowed it with every beat.

“You’ll need another bath,” Sylvain said finally.

Felix made a sound that was almost a laugh.

*

Winter mornings were short, dark, and cold. Sylvain had no particular fondness for the cold, but he did appreciate how much more enjoyable it was to sleep pressed to another in the cold. Morning and night, Felix warming his bed was a new reason to welcome winter. Though, if he were being technical, Sylvain was the one warming Felix’s bed.

It was early; still early enough that Felix was sleeping soundly. He was an early riser, though not a morning person, which was an amusing, but very Felix combination. Sylvain could feel him pressed against his back; he felt Felix’s breath tickling his bare skin, the silk of his hair, and the warmth of his body. Sylvain wanted very much to simply turn, gather Felix in his arms, and go back to sleep. Instead he carefully eased out of bed.

Tucking the blankets back in, and moving the pillows so Felix wouldn’t feel his absence, Sylvain quietly got his things. He paused for only a second to look back at Felix, he slept on his side, his hair pushed up over his head, mouth slightly open, his expression relaxed, the way it never was in waking. Sylvain smiled, turned, and went out.

Going into his own room for the first time that visit, Sylvain quickly got dressed. He had readied his things the day before, while Felix was busy attending to his duties, Sylvain had made sure he had everything ready to set out for Gautier.

Felix had offered to go with him, and Sylvain had wanted that too, at first. The day before Sylvain had brought it up, just before Felix left in the morning, and they had argued. Felix insisted he go with him, that there was no need for Sylvain to go alone, and he wouldn’t listen to Sylvain when he said it was something he needed to do on his own.

Sylvain had thought he needed someone to be with him, to support him, when he finally confronted his father, but that wasn’t true. He felt now that it was important he go alone, that he face the man who had refused to give his support to both his sons, causing damage that could never be repaired.

Moreover, Sylvain was not alone. He did not need anyone to stand beside him when he confronted his father, because he carried them already in his heart. Not just Felix, but all his friends. He realized now that he was more than the crest he bore, or the name he carried, he would have himself left when this was all over, and a place to come home to.

Arriving back in Gautier sent the staff into a panicked flurry of activity. Clearly Margrave had given orders to be notified of his arrival, because Sylvain was just leaving his horse with a stable hand when a servant came to fetch him.

“My Lord,” they said, clearly winded, “Your father calls you.”

Sylvain nodded, “Take me to him.”

The servant hurried along, half running, and obviously wishing Sylvain too would pick up his pace, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at Sylvain.

He was eventually led, not to his father’s study, as he had assumed, but to the audience chamber. Sylvain braced himself to be met with the full force of his father’s court and council, but when he walked in found only his father.

Margrave sat alone on the dais, he wore the circlet of beaten, mixed metals of their house on his head, a heavy fur lined cape, and jacket of fine velvet; he was clearly dressed for court.

The servant who had shown Sylvain to the audience chamber closed the door as soon as Sylvain stepped in, leaving the two men alone. Sylvain walked calmly up to the dais, stopping just before it, and looked up into the furious face of his father.

“I had thought you passed this phase,” Margrave began, skipping over greetings and pleasantries. His deep voice rang clear throughout the whole chamber, echoing off the walls and bare stone with no bodies to muffle the sound. “Passed shirking your duties, passed idiotic decisions, but clearly you are not. What will it take, hmm?” Margrave leaned forward in his seat, his heavy gaze like a physical weight on Sylvain. Sylvain refused to look away; he didn’t interrupt, and simply clasped his hands tightly behind his back. “A most prestigious education, a war, a tour of Faerghus, none of these have yielded satisfactory results. You are still an irresponsible philanderer who cannot show an ounce of gratitude for all the privilege he was born into. You are self-centred, short sighted, and ill mannered without a single rational thought in your head. If it weren’t for that crest you bear I would question our relation at all.”

Margrave paused. He had spoken in an angry tirade, clearly voicing thoughts he had been harbouring for some time. Sylvain clenched his jaw, and was glad he had put his hands behind his back; his father couldn’t see how they shook.

Margrave pulled something from the inside of his jacket. It was a folded piece of parchment, and Sylvain thought he already knew what it was. “The merchant, Beaumont, has written to me to express his regret and understanding of the cancellation of your betrothal to his daughter.” He gripped the letter so tightly in his hand it crumpled, and threatened to rip. “You will write back immediately. Apologize for this misunderstanding, and invite them to Gautier at their earliest convenience for your wedding. You are not to leave Gautier again without my say so, do you understand, Sylvain?”

Sylvain didn’t reply right away. He took a deep breath, and then another. It was one thing to imagine what it would be like to finally say ‘no’ to his father, it was another thing entirely to stand before him. To look into the face that had glared at him throughout his childhood, that had not offered either a word of consolation or acknowledgement when Miklan left, and then died. Margrave wasn’t the only one who had trouble believing they could be related at all.

Swallowing, Sylvain unclasped his hands, and let them fall at his sides. As clearly and as steadily as he could, Sylvain replied simply, “No.”

Silence followed. Margrave looked at him with his expression unchanging for several heartbeats, and then in furious disbelief.

“If you think for one moment I will allow you – “ Margrave began, his voice low and menacing.

“But,” Sylvain interrupted, pitching his voice more loudly, and shocking his father into silence, who was not at all used to Sylvain talking back. “That is exactly what I am telling you now. You will no longer ‘allow’ me to do anything; I seek neither your permission, nor your approval. I do not care for your acceptance either. I am my own person, and I refuse to live to fulfill your agenda. This is _my_ life you seek to dictate, and while I own I still have much to learn, my decisions are my own, as are my mistakes, and my triumphs. You may be my father, but your are not my overseer.”

Margrave threw down the letter he was still clutching and rose from his seat. “This is that wretched excuse for a Duke’s doing!” He exclaimed as he made to descend the dais. Sylvain stepped back, more in surprise to hear Felix evoked than anything. Margrave laughed without humour. “You think I do not know _why_ it’s to Fraldarius that you run? Do you think word has not reached me that you spend your nights in in the Duke’s bed?” Sylvain could not help the rush of heat that rose up his neck and coloured his face. Each step brought Margrave closer to him, and each word hit Sylvain square in the chest. “I have known for some time of your – “ His expression twisted, and he spat the next word out, “ – _dalliances_ with the Duke. But, I know _you_ as well. You have never been one to shy from a romp. It’s a wonder you have not littered our steps with bastards. I kept you busy, I sent you away, and you still went back.

“I never cared for that boy. He has no respect for anyone, a contemptuous, arrogant, trumped up second choice. Your _friend_ is no longer welcome in Gautier; if he sets foot here again, I will have him removed. You carry _my_ blood, you bear _my_ name, and you are greatly mistaken if you think I will allow you to carry on like this.”

He was standing right in front of Sylvain now. Sylvain was taller than him, but his father was not made in miniature, and he had years of practice making Sylvain feel small.

Sylvain shook, his jaw hurt from how hard he clenched it. “Do not speak of Felix like that.” He said.

Margrave made a sound that was somewhere between frustration and dark amusement. “Don’t pretend chivalry now, Sylvain!” He stepped back and flung out his arms to gesture to the empty hall, “There are no skirts here for you to lift! Now, listen to me, you no-good ingrate, you will do as I say, or you will face the consequences.”

Sylvain looked at his father. So much of his appearance had been inherited from this man; so much of what Sylvain was came from him.

“I will not. Do what you will.”

His father looked as if Sylvain had hit him. He looked ready to hit Sylvain back. Sylvain almost flinched; when he was younger it was not uncommon for his father to raise his hand.

“You are henceforth disinherited.” His father said, slowly, as if he had to force himself to speak coherently instead of simply screaming at Sylvain. “I strip you of your title, of your lands, and of your ties to this family. You are no heir of Gautier, and no son of mine. I want you to leave this land, and I never want you see your face again.”

They glared at each other. Sylvain had not been expecting warmth or acceptance, but some part of him had still hoped for it. After all these years, Margrave was still the person who had been present all his life, he was the only thing Sylvain had of a parent, and as much as he wished he didn’t want his affection, there would always be a part of him that longed for it.

But, Sylvain had come knowing this was a possibility. He reminded himself that he had somewhere to return. He nodded once, sharply, and turned.

Sylvain made it three paces before the door burst open. Two unexpected but most welcome figures strode in.

“Felix!” Sylvain exclaimed, “Ingrid!”

Guards, some of which were being supported by their fellows, clearly injured, followed them in. They kept a wary distance from his friends.

“Begone!” Margrave commanded, his voice booming. He turned angrily to the guards, “Get them out of here!”

The guards hesitated. Some of them would be reluctant to fight two of the continent’s strongest fighters, and some of them had clearly been shown first hand they could not win.

“Save your breath,” Felix called. He was dressed for combat, as was Ingrid, and while Ingrid looked grim, Felix was icy calm. He shot a glare at Sylvain that told him he was clearly upset with Sylvain too before turning back to Margrave, he said, “You have ignored me for months, but you will find this harder to ignore.” He stepped forward and pulled a sealed envelope from his coat. Sylvain just caught a glimpse of the King’s seal on the letter. “A summons,” Felix prompted, and Margrave reluctantly accepted, making an obvious effort to avoid touching Felix. “The King desires your presence in Fhirdiad before you are sent to Sreng to assist with the relief effort. Your refusal would be tantamount to treason, and you will be stripped of your title and lands if you ignore this summons. Sylvain inherits in your stead. Either way, Sylvain will remain Lord here.” Felix paused, letting his words sink in as Margrave turned a livid white, “The King and Archbishop have also accepted my petition for Sylvain’s hand. Again. Though, I expect you already knew that.”

Stunned silence followed Felix’s words. Felix didn’t turn to look at Sylvain, but Sylvain couldn’t pull his gaze from Felix. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt flushed again, but for an entirely different reason now. Felix stared Margrave down, not a trace of embarrassment, or shyness in his expression. He stood solidly, arms crossed over his chest now, and waited.

Margrave didn’t open the letter, just held it in hands that shook with what Sylvain did not doubt was rage. He couldn’t seem to find any words to respond to Felix. When a long moment passed without a reply, Felix continued.

“You are expected to leave within a week’s time, you will be compensated for your move. We expect Sreng will need years of work. Your presence is not required at our wedding; the King will act in your stead. You will see all this detailed in that letter.” Finally, he turned to Sylvain. In a slightly softer tone, he said, “Unless you have any further business here, I’d like to return home, you will need to come back here soon anyway.”

“I – yes. I mean, no, there is nothing – “ Sylvain cut himself off, and simply walked forward. He watched in surprise as Felix extended his hand to him. Felix did not meet his eye, and Sylvain accepted his hand as if he were being offered something invaluable.

They left, the guards parting to make room for them. Sylvain did not look back, and he did not bid his father farewell.

They made their way silently to the courtyard. Once outside in the cold evening air, Sylvain stopped. Felix was forced to stop as well, and Ingrid turned to look at them. Sylvain pulled Felix forward at the same time as he reached for Ingrid. He grabbed them both, and held them in a tight embrace. Ingrid laughed, Felix cursed, and Sylvain had to close his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill.

Letting them go, eyes bright, Sylvain smiled incredulously at his friends. “What – How did you – ?”

Felix made a show of straightening his coat, it was Ingrid who replied, “We can explain, but I think we may want to leave, yes?”

At the stables Sylvain realized that they had come on Ingrid’s Pegasus. Felix ignored Ingrid’s invitation to ride with her again and walked directly over to Fenris’s stall. Felix looked expectantly at Sylvain as if to say, _‘Well?’_ Sylvain smiled, and let Felix mount up on his horse before joining him. He remembered how much Felix did not enjoy flying.

Before she took off Ingrid said, “We won’t reach Fraldarius before nightfall. We can stay at an inn on the boarder, follow me.”

They rode in silence, Felix pressing himself against Sylvain’s back the moment Ingrid took off.

It was full dark when they arrived at the inn. Ingrid had already stabled her Pegasus, and they found her inside arranging rooms for them. None of them had come prepared for an overnight journey; Sylvain had deliberately left most of his things behind when he set off for Gautier. All three of them were better prepared for combat than they were to spend the night at an inn.

There were only a couple of other guests, and after they ordered food Felix excused himself. As soon as he was gone Sylvain turned to Ingrid, “Will you explain now just what happened back there?”

They sat a comfortable distance from the fireplace; Ingrid and Sylvain’s lances leaned against the wall they sat next to. Ingrid had taken off the heavy cloak she wore when travelling, now she was a slighter but no less intimidating figure than she had been in his father’s audience hall.

Ingrid leaned back in her seat as the innkeeper came with their drinks; Ingrid waited for her to leave before she smiled at Sylvain. “My part is pure coincidence, and I’m not sure about the details of what Felix has been doing, but before I left the capitol Dimitri asked if I might deliver something for him. I arrived in Fraldarius this morning; I just caught Felix as he was about to leave. When I gave him the package Dimitri asked me to deliver, he tore into it, and after he read it, demanded that I fly him to Margravate.” Sylvain looked at her in surprise, and Ingrid nodded like she understood what his expression meant. “Exactly. I knew it had to be important if he was asking to _fly_. I made him promise to explain before we took off.” She paused, and smiled again, it was the smile of someone who had known him a great many years, and so, accurately predicted his behaviour. “Felix told me you had proposed to him, and had gone to tell your father that you would not go through with the betrothal he had arranged.” Sylvain looked down, then back up, and nodded. Ingrid’s expression grew softer, and her eyes were bright with obvious pride, she beamed at him.

“I knew your father would not take that well,” put in Felix coming back to the table. He gave them both unimpressed looks, as if he had expected to come back to this discussion but was still disappointed. He sat next to Sylvain without looking at him.

“From what you said in the hall,” Sylvain said, “it sounded as if you have been planning this for some time.”

Felix picked up his cup and held it in both hands. Addressing the watered down wine, Felix said, “I have.” He took a sip of the wine, and Sylvain had the impression he was stalling. Both Ingrid and Sylvain waited, and finally Felix continued. “Before I went to Gloucester, I began writing to Dimitri. I asked, theoretically, if I made an offer of marriage to another Lord, if he would sanction it.” Felix put the cup back down on the table, still intent on it, “I never gave him a name, but he wrote back to me and my council extolling the virtues of a union between Lords,” Felix paused to roll his eyes, and Sylvain smiled a little, feeling as if he could almost hear Dimitri. “Then, I wrote to your father.”

He shot Sylvain a quick glance, and then immersed himself in the study of the pattern in the wooden cup. “I suggested a union of our territories. I drafted outlines on the benefits to Gautier.” Felix paused, he swallowed, and his voice grew quieter. “I did not ask for your hand, I only – I assured him I would protect what was rightfully yours.”

The fire popped in the hearth, Ingrid was a silent unobtrusive presence beside them. Her inclusion in this moment did nothing to detract from it; she had helped them both, and had always been there for them when they needed her. Sylvain thought her presence might have actually made it easier for Felix to speak. Felix picked up his cup and took a drink; again, they waited.

“That time I came to Margravate, Margrave found me after I left your rooms. He detailed to me all the arrangements being made for your betrothal, and your courtship. I thought – I thought perhaps it was what you wanted.”

At this Sylvain did interrupt. “But, I wrote you all those letters.”

“In which all you did was apologize, you never said anything about – ” Felix broke off and shook his head. “At any rate, the morning after you came to see me, I wrote to Dimitri, and I told him everything. Though, I think he suspected already to whom I was referring to the first time I wrote. I asked him for help, and he and Byleth gave it.” Felix concluded, and then drained the last of his wine.

Sylvain looked at Felix, trying to take in everything he had said. It did not escape him what it must have cost Felix to ask for Dimitri’s help after so long insisting he had no need for it. All this time, all while Sylvain had been suppressing and denying his own feelings, Felix had been ready to take vows. More than ever Sylvain felt just how much he had been making Felix suffer, how long he had kept him waiting.

Felix looked at Ingrid. “It was luck that Ingrid came when she did.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ingrid said, “I think perhaps it was providence.”

Sylvain turned to look at her, smiling. “A hero comes when they are needed most.”

Ingrid smiled back, shaking her head. “I suppose this means I will have another occasion for my good dress.”

Sylvain turned automatically to look at Felix, who glanced at him, he couldn’t seem to hold Sylvain’s gaze for longer than a second. He was turning a light pink.

“Yes,” said Sylvain firmly.

Later they retired to their rooms. Ingrid had rightly assumed they would want to share.

Felix still had a hard time looking at Sylvain, and he was stiff and quiet in a way that was familiar to Sylvain.

This casual domesticity was still new to them, and more so when there was nothing to distract them from going about their nightly routines. They dithered over who would use the basin to wash first, until Felix had huffed in annoyance and simply took his turn first.

The room was simple, sparse, and clean. The bed was perhaps one-third the size of Felix’s, but still enough for two people. While Felix washed up, Sylvain unbuckled his armour and stripped down. He felt suddenly self-conscious in a way he hardly ever was. He seriously considered wearing his undershirt to bed, and then finally talked himself into taking it too off, he always did, so why did this feel different?

He caught Felix looking at him before he hastily turned away and began pulling the tie from his hair, which fell around his face obscuring his expression.

When Sylvain was done he went to the bed. Felix was sitting against the headboard, under the covers. With nothing to occupy himself with he had been staring into the fire, but pulled his attention away when Sylvain approached, turning it instead to his hands resting in his lap.

As Sylvain got into the bed, Felix turned to the lamp by his side of the bed and blew it out. He lay down and made to turn on his side when Sylvain stopped him. Leaning over him, Sylvain gently coaxed Felix to lie on his back. Finally, Felix met his gaze.

Sylvain caressed his cheek, he could tell, even in the dim light of the room, that Felix was blushing. Sylvain leaned down to kiss him, softly. Pulling back a fraction, he said quietly. “Thank you.”

Felix gazed back at him. He lifted a hand to touch the scar on Sylvain’s shoulder, his touch lingering before he dropped his hand to trace the swell of muscle on Sylvain’s arm. “Next time,” Felix said quietly, “Don’t you dare leave me behind.”

Sylvain smiled into the kiss Felix gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so super long cuz the way it would have been cut was weird to me, so just have it all together! 
> 
> As mentioned, I usually don't include any kind of homophobia or parental figures who aren't super supportive of their children's sexuality/partners, but I really dislike Margrave, and I feel like he would be that shitty parent. Again, in the world of this fic queer relationships aren't uncommon or taboo, it's just an issue of bloodlines. I hope the confrontation scene read well, and I'm sorry if it was upsetting, but it ended up being a little bit like Scott Pilgrim. Sylvain unlocked the power of love, and more importantly, of self respect. =)
> 
> There's only one chapter left!!! I'm excited and a little sad to see this end, but I'm so grateful y'all have been along for the ride! I hope you enjoy the last little bit, and thanks so much for all your support, it means a lot!! <333
> 
> You can find me [tumblr](snowfallswrites.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/snow_falls4)!


	12. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, I hope you like the last chapter!!! <3

I need you more than anything in my life  
I want you more than anything in my life  
I'll miss you more than anyone in my life  
I love you more than anyone in my life

- _Something about us_ , Daft Punk

_Some years later_

****

Sylvain hurried through the corridors, ignoring the bag he carried that bumped against his hip as he took long strides. He was tired, and could probably use a bath, as well as a shave, but the rest and washing could wait another moment.

The staff greeted him as he passed, and Sylvain returned their greetings absently, all his attention focused on the reason for his hurried progress throughout his own home.

Finally, when he rounded the corner, Sylvain spotted him. There at the end of the corridor Felix stood talking to one of the staff.

Sylvain meant to call out to him, opened his mouth to do so, but instead he took a moment to simply look at him. He could only see Felix in profile, his long hair braided down his back, they were in the middle of summer, and Felix had forgone the jacket that he usually wore over the sleeveless shirt he had on now. When he got closer he would see the faint outline of Sylvain’s mother’s ring under his shirt, which Felix wore on a necklace. His bare arms were well muscled, and scarred, pale as the skin on his stomach, and the inside of his thighs. He wore his sword at his hip, and as Sylvain watched, Felix crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing briefly. Felix wasn’t wearing gloves, and Sylvain could almost _feel_ Felix’s calloused fingers, as if they were sliding over Sylvain’s own arms instead.

Suddenly, Felix turned to look at him. Felix raised an eyebrow at him, and then turned back to continue speaking with his staff. Sylvain felt a hint of wry amusement as he made his way forward, it was the same kind of feeling he might get when petting a thorn bush and getting pricked, it was Sylvain’s own fault for expecting the thorn bush to act differently.

“That is all for now, thank you,” Felix said as the servant bowed, taking care to include Sylvain in his deference, and left. Felix turned to look at Sylvain now, his eyes were bright, but the circles under them were darker than usual, as if he might not have been sleeping enough in the four months since Sylvain last saw him. Felix backed up to lean against the wall, arms still crossed, “You are late.”

Sylvain smiled, he stepped forward, and reached out to lean his forearm against the wall by Felix’s head, careful not to touch him. “My apologies, my Lord.”

Felix rolled his eyes, “What kept you then?”

“The general call of duty.” Sylvain replied, admiring the way Felix’s dark lashes framed his eyes. “Helping those in distress.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you have quite the _reputation_ with all the help you provide.”

“Are you implying something, sir? I will have you know I am happily married.” Sylvain leaned in slightly, and risked gently brushing back the hair at Felix’s ear, keeping his touch light. “Moreover, my husband isn’t to be taken lightly.”

Without warning, Felix grabbed the collar of Sylvain’s shirt, “Damn right,” he said, and pulled Sylvain down to kiss him hard.

Surprised and delighted, Sylvain kissed him back.

When he imagined his homecoming, Sylvain’s ideal scenario had been finding Felix in their bedroom, perhaps fresh from the bath, or in a state of undress. He had seen it in his minds eye, taking Felix’s face in his hands, and kissing him slow and deep, feeling gentle affection slowly turn to something else.

This was not that. There was no slow kindling, Felix was already a raging fire, and Sylvain wanted only to quench him.

He broke from Felix’s demanding kisses to say, breathlessly, “The bedroom – “

Felix pushed him back, took his hand, and strode two paces down the hall to an equipment room. Sylvain let himself be led, amazed and excited when Felix stepped into the room and pulled him along.

This room housed most of the combat winter gear, and naturally, there was no one else in there except for the two of them. A small window high on one of the walls provided the only illumination, but Sylvain and Felix were no strangers to fumbling with their clothing in the dark.

Sylvain’s bag hit the floor, though not before he managed to grab, and pocket, a small bottle he had brought back with him. Sylvain was backed against the door, he felt Felix’s hands on the ties of his trousers, and seconds later the heat of his hand on him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, and bit his lip against the sensation. Sylvain allowed himself a handful of seconds to enjoy that feeling before he reached out and began working on Felix’s belt, letting the weight of the sword attached to it pull it to the floor where it fell with an ignored clang. In typical Felix fashion he brushed Sylvain’s hands aside and began work on his trousers himself, to Felix’s credit, he worked much more quickly.

Instead of simply opening his own trousers the way he had done for Sylvain’s, Felix pushed his own down, stepping on the heel of one of his shoes to pull it off, freeing one leg of any clothing save his stocking.

Sylvain watched a little dumbfounded, and when Felix grabbed his collar again, this time to pull him around so Felix’s back was against the door instead, Sylvain finally found his voice.

“What – “ he began, and then felt Felix pull him forward by the hips.

“What does it seem like?” Felix replied tartly. “Hurry up.”

This wasn’t at all what Sylvain had imagined.

“Wait, wait, I have – “ Sylvain dug into his pocket and took out the small bottle.

Felix looked down at his hand and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never known you to be so prepared.”

Sylvain had imagined a different use for this, even after he had pocketed the bottle, but he certainly wasn’t about to say no.

“That’s funny – “ retorted Sylvain opening the bottle and pouring the fruit scented oil onto his fingers, “ – because I’ve always known you to be impatient.”

They said no more as Sylvain’s fingers slid in, the bottle clumsily returned to his pocket. He worked as quickly as he dared, and still not fast enough for Felix, who bit Sylvain’s ear impatiently, and swore when Sylvain touched him just right.

Felix had one leg wrapped around Sylvain’s waist, and it was easy enough to lift him, braced against the wall, and with Felix’s help, slowly pushed in. The sound of Felix’s exhale was hushed, but hit Sylvain like a torrent of sound, he had missed Felix’s uneven breathing.

Sylvain slid his hand up from his hold on Felix’s thigh, feeling his knee bend at Sylvain’s elbow, and taking very firm hold of Felix’s well muscled backside.

The feel of him was better than Sylvain remembered. Every time he thought he was prepared for what it was like to press into and against Felix’s warm, hard, and beautiful body, but he wasn’t. Every time he thought, surely, _this_ time, but it always took his breath away, the electric, hot feeling of pleasure, and the overwhelming emotion in his heart hadn’t faltered in years. Sylvain suspected perhaps it never really would.

“Faster,” Felix demanded on a breath, and Sylvain shuddered, he felt out of control as it was. Sylvain gripped him harder, changing his angle slightly, and Felix gasped loudly.

Reaching down, Felix lifted the hem of his own shirt, and bit down, his sounds muffled even as the rattle of the door became louder as they moved. Sylvain felt Felix’s hands slide into his hair, up his shirt, and then felt him shiver in pleasure.

This homecoming wasn’t what he had planned, or imagined, but Sylvain wouldn’t change it for the world. The desperate way Felix touched him was intoxicating, the thought that he wanted Sylvain so badly he couldn’t wait to reach their bedroom had Sylvain’s blood rushing hot and fast throughout his body. Because, of course, he wanted Felix just as much.

Leaning down, Sylvain kissed his neck, forgetting himself in the moment and scraping soft skin with his teeth, feeling a pleasant thrill when Felix clutched him harder.

Sylvain was close now, lifting his head he gasped in Felix’s ear, “I can’t – Felix, I – “

Felix said nothing in reply, and Sylvain felt Felix’s hand slide down between them, he opened his eye to watch as Felix took his own hard cock in hand. Sylvain groaned and shut his eyes tight, looking was a mistake, he wanted very badly to stroke Felix himself, but he couldn’t afford to use his hands for anything other than support at the moment. Instead he felt the movement of Felix’s body, and couldn’t stop himself from opening his eyes again to watch, and then turning his gaze to Felix’s face, his brows drawn in concentration, his face flushed, and his teeth biting down hard on his shirt.

Sylvain was lost at the first shudder of Felix’s body; try as he might, he couldn’t hold on a moment longer. Pleasure flooded him in an instant, and he opened his mouth in a silent cry as his saw stars.

For a moment there was only the sound of their harsh breathing, of the beating of their hearts loud in their own ears, and Sylvain turned his head to kiss Felix softly on the cheek.

“Let me – “ Sylvain said, as he carefully, and somewhat awkwardly, pulled out, and set Felix back on his feet.

Pulling the shirt out of Felix’s mouth, Sylvain pulled a handkerchief out from another pocket and gently wiped Felix’s stomach clean. Felix stood still, leaning against the door, watching him as he did. When he was done Sylvain looked at Felix, his hair was slightly dishevelled, face still flushed, and his eyes were dark, he reached out to tug on Sylvain’s collar once more. This time with just enough force to communicate what he wanted, and when Sylvain kissed him, it was soft and sweet.

Felix pulled back first, speaking against Sylvain’s lips he said, quietly, “Welcome home.”

Cleaned and once more presentable, Felix sent Sylvain back to their room to wash up.

“Why not join me?” Sylvain asked, deepening his voice, and giving Felix his best charming smile.

Felix looked at him, clearly unmoved, “I have things to do.” Sylvain opened his mouth to retort; unaware of the way his eyes sparkled at that opening. Felix clamped a hand over his mouth, clearly anticipating the joke he had been about to make, “Not another word. Don’t you dare.”

The dare was almost enough to tempt him to do it anyway, but Sylvain refrained, grinning as Felix released him and stepped back.

Felix turned to open the door, coolly aloof once more.

“Later, then,” said Sylvain.

Felix paused; he turned back slightly, though he didn’t look at Sylvain. “Yes, obviously,” he said, and walked out.

Sylvain watched him leave, then leaned against the wall and sighed. He was smiling, couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he bent to pick up his bag.

He made his way to their rooms where he quickly put his things away and washed up. He took a moment to shave the close cropped beard he had grown, remembering that, for once, Felix had not complained about it.

It was late in the afternoon when he was done, and Sylvain made directly for the training grounds. There, as he knew he would, Sylvain found Felix.

“Widen your stance, plant your feet. Good. When you punch it needs to carry the weight of your entire body, step forward. Yes.”

Felix stood in the middle of the training grounds surrounded by children, none of them older than twelve or thirteen. All of them were orphans of war, and none of them had homes or family they could return to. At the moment they were housing, training, and caring for ten children. Sylvain wanted to take in more, but he reluctantly agreed when Felix pointed out they could barely had enough time for these children as it was.

One of the children caught sight of Sylvain and shouted his name excitedly. Since they were all quite young, and none of them from noble backgrounds they knew of, it was quite easy to convince them to call Felix and Sylvain by their first names, and not by any title.

The rest of the children turned, and called out in greeting. They then all turned back as one to look at Felix pleadingly.

Felix sighed, and crossed his arms. “Five minutes,” he said.

The children raced over and engulfed Sylvain. He laughed, hugging as many of them as he could at once, ruffling their hair, and then picking up Gabrielle, who was the youngest at five. Sylvain had an especially soft spot for her. When she was sad or upset and allowed no one else near her, she almost always let Sylvain comfort her.

All the children spoke at once, impatient to tell Sylvain about all the things they had done and learned while he was gone.

“Felix said I might practice with a training sword soon!”

“I can ride a pony!”

“Mercedes taught me to bandage a cut!”

Despite Sylvain’s requests that they speak one at a time, they continued to bombard him with information. In their defence, Sylvain did not try very hard. Far be it for him to tame this joyous reunion.

A moment later he saw Felix approach from the corner of his eye, as he turned his attention to Gabrielle.

“And you?” Sylvain asked.

“I got a fever!” Gabrielle proclaimed, adding proudly, “And then I got better!”

The smile froze on Sylvain’s lips. He shot Felix a panicked look.

In response to that look, Felix put in calmly, “An ear infection. Mercedes cared for her, she says it is common in children of her age.”

“I beat the fever.” Gabrielle told Sylvain reassuringly.

Sylvain’s smile returned. “Yes, of course. You’re not to be trifled with, how could I forget?” Gabrielle beamed at him.

“That’s enough now, back to work,” Felix announced after another hectic minute.

All the children made noises of disappointment, and then turned to Sylvain in obvious hope. He laughed and shook his head; “You are all quite mistaken if you think I have any say over Felix’s decisions.” Sylvain caught his husband’s eye in that moment. “He is a law unto himself,” Sylvain said with affection.

Felix scoffed, and then ushered the children back to where they had been earlier, and this time Sylvain joined them.

It was an unexpected pleasure to teach. Sylvain knew, intellectually, some of it stemmed from an inherent desire to pass down knowledge to the next generation. But, more than that, there was the sense that he was doing something good, finally building something in the name of that good instead of tearing down.

He could tell Felix felt something similar. Felix grumbled the most about teaching, but he was also the one who took it the most seriously. Sylvain often had to coax and cajole him into bed when he stayed up going over personalized lesson plans.

In the years since they had begun work on this fostering idea they had managed to recruit Mercedes and Annette to their cause. They both made wonderful teachers, Mercedes kind and patient, and Annette enthusiastic and encouraging. When she was free, Ingrid came to help them as well. Their childhood friend had glowed with pride when they told her of their plans. Perhaps only Dimitri, who couldn’t seem to express his support enough, rivalled her in pride for them.

Felix and Sylvain had hired tutors as well, to work with them, as none of them particularly enjoyed teaching subjects like arithmetic or language. They also had a great many friends who occasionally dropped in to visit and teach their children while they were there. Among them the party Sylvain had toured Faerghus with, and Beatrice who delighted in passing on the knowledge of her art.

When Dimitri had asked if they wanted to officially be accredited as a school, Felix had declined right away. “We are teaching these children, yes,” he had said. “But we are not forcing or asking them to leave once we have nothing more to teach. This is their home for as long as they want it.”

Sylvain remembered that conversation vividly. Dimitri had managed to make a short visit to the site of their newly constructed home, a place built to accommodate both Lords. It was spring, and they had all come back from a ride on horseback. Felix had turned his horse to face Dimitri, straight-backed, his gaze piercing. Sylvain had felt his chest swell with pride, and his heart glowed.

In the present, Sylvain carefully watched and instructed the children under his care as they practiced their stances, and went through basic forms, giving them advice, and praising them in equal measure. For all his enthusiasm however, Sylvain felt that Felix’s one “Good,” earned him far more grins than Sylvain ever got. Not that he minded; Sylvain understood just how impactful Felix’s praise could be.

The rest of the day passed very predictably. It was very in keeping to what Sylvain’s life was like now. Which was time spent with the children, and attending to his duties, interspersed with meals. Sylvain was tired after travelling, but he didn’t retire early, and when he finally made it back to his bedroom, it was with Felix beside him.

Sylvain had taken off his boots and stockings, thrown off his shirt, and then thrown himself down on the bed, finally feeling his fatigue catch up with him. He lay facedown on the bed; his limbs spread out, and closed his eyes. Sylvain could hear the sound of movement coming from the bathing room, Felix had gone in to wash up, and for once Sylvain hadn’t tried to talk his way into the bath with him. He still remembered the look on Felix’s face when Sylvain had presented him with the brand new bathtub, almost three times the size of their old one. It had cost a small fortune, and it had had to be brought into their home before the doors had been fitted, but considering all the use they got out of it, Sylvain considered it an investment. Sylvain smiled, remembering the way Felix had flushed when he had first seen it.

Not quite asleep, but on his way there, Sylvain felt Felix come back into their bedchamber. There was just a hint of sound as his bare feet moved across the floor, and then the dip in the mattress as he sat down.

“You are taking up too much space.”

Sylvain smiled again, and opened one eye to look at him. He had to angle his head back slightly too, and then Sylvain could see his husband. Felix was looking down at him, his expression calm. He was still quick to offense, and still settled the majority of his arguments with his sword, but Felix was softer around the edges now, and he seemed more comfortable with that fact. Only about an inch of it was visible at the moment, peeking out from his open collar, but the year old scar that ran across Felix’s chest was testament to that. A result of a battle Felix had stubbornly charged into, even after Sylvain had argued with him for days not to go, resulting in the biggest fight they had so far had in their marriage. 

Groaning, as if it took him a great deal of effort to do so, Sylvain hauled himself up into a sitting position. Felix watched him with a slightly arched brow.

“No one asked you to stay so late, you could have gone to bed earlier.”

Sylvain shook his head and reached out for Felix. Felix sat on the edge of the bed, his long hair up in a messy bun, the strays wisps around his face and neck slightly damp, he looked at Sylvain for a moment before he crawled over to him, sitting between his legs, and allowing Sylvain to wrap his arms around him. Felix wore nothing but a long, clean white nightshirt, and when Sylvain pressed his face to the warm space between neck and shoulder, he smelled soap, clean linen, and Felix’s warm scent; the wonderful scents of home.

Closing his eyes, Sylvain didn’t even notice when he started kissing Felix’s neck, it was automatic, soft light kisses, because Felix’s skin was under Sylvain’s mouth, and it was habit. Sylvain took a deep breath, and then exhaled, feeling the tension in his body lessen, he had been physically tired, yes, but he hadn’t realized that he had felt emotionally drained too. Simply holding Felix, feeling his solid form and lovely body heat made him finally relax, after four long months.

They sat in silence for a long moment, at one point Felix had reached up to gently caress the back of Sylvain’s hand, idly following the line of the silver wedding band on his finger, identical to the one Felix wore.

“Do not fall asleep on me.” Felix’s voice carried just enough warning to force Sylvain’s eyes open.

Like a stubborn child, Sylvain replied, “I was not falling asleep.”

Felix made a disbelieving noise, and tapped on the back of his hand. “At least finish undressing if you’re going to fall asleep.”

Sylvain smiled against the skin of Felix’s shoulder, “Any excuse to see me naked,” he said. “Ow.”

Felix elbowed him, it didn’t hurt, but Sylvain bit him lightly in retaliation anyway. He kissed the same spot quickly before letting Felix go, and then tugging him back again.

“Wait, let me do your hair.”

Felix glanced back at him, and then nodded. He shifted forward a little to give Sylvain more space, and pulled the tie from his hair. Sylvain watched the dark strands spill down around Felix’s back and shoulders like it was a spectacle. He had seen it a thousand times, and would see it a thousand more, but it never stopped being mesmerizing.

“How were things while I was gone?” Sylvain asked as he ran careful fingers through Felix’s hair, mindful of the gold chain around Felix’s neck, and then sectioning his hair.

“I already told you.”

“You hardly wrote anything in your letters.”

“Because there was hardly anything to say.”

“You are always so stingy.”

Sylvain could practically hear Felix roll his eyes before he replied, “What kind of useless details were you hoping for then?”

After years of practice, it took Sylvain no time at all to braid Felix’s hair. Sylvain had mistakenly asked one of the young girls they fostered when she first arrived to teach him, but it was her older brother who had shown him how to braid in more than one style. Sylvain extended his hand to Felix for the tie, and then finished the braid, leaving it a little loose so Felix could sleep comfortably.

Moving around to face Felix, Sylvain said, “Anything. I’m interested in all the details of your life.”

This time he got to see Felix roll his eyes, but he also saw the way his face took on colour. Unable to stop himself, Sylvain leaned forward and kissed him. Long and slow, Sylvain had months of kisses to make up for.

When Sylvain drew back, Felix sighed softly, so Sylvain kissed him again, this time on his forehead.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

Sylvain smiled, and Felix looked away, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly.

“Are you ready to hear about my father, then?”

Looking back at him, Felix said, “No, but you might as well get it over with.”

Sylvain told him about his trip. He told Felix about how Margrave was still bitterly resentful, and tolerated Sylvain’s presence only because he had no authority to send him away. He still refused to acknowledge Felix as Sylvain’s husband. Sylvain hesitated, and then debated on whether or not to disclose this next bit of information, it had happened on the day before he headed back for home, and so hadn’t made it into his letters. But, he thought, if anyone told Felix, it should probably be Sylvain.

“I hit him.”

Felix looked only mildly surprise. “Oh?”

Sylvain looked down at his hands in his lap, he sat cross-legged in front of Felix on the bed now. He reached out to trace invisible patterns into the bedspread with his finger. “It was the last day, I’m surprised I made it so long, really. But he said – “ Sylvain shook his head, what he had said didn’t bear repeating. “It was about you, and I – I did it before I could stop myself.”

Felix’s hand covered Sylvain’s own on the bed, stilling his movements. He looked up to meet Felix’s gaze, and smiled a little ruefully. “I don’t think things will ever be well between us.”

Felix nodded, something soft in his eyes that Sylvain could only look at for so long before he dropped his gaze again. Sylvain sighed, and ran his free hand through his hair, and then waved it in the air, as if to wave away that unpleasant topic. Then he brought Felix’s hand up to his mouth, and kissed his palm, before gently letting go.

Rubbing at his eyes, Sylvain shifted, stretching out his legs, and then looked over at Felix, who had tucked the blankets up over his lap, an inviting pillow if Sylvain ever saw one. Deliberately, Sylvain shifted again, and then lay down so he could rest his head on Felix’s lap. He sighed again, but this sigh was different.

“You are acting like one of our children.” Felix said, and it was probably meant to be chiding, but there was nothing about that sentence Sylvain didn’t enjoy, especially when he felt Felix start to run gentle fingers through his hair. “Have you decided what you want to do for your brother?”

Sylvain closed his eyes. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Miklan lately, and he wasn’t sure why, but he saw his older brother in dreams not infrequently for almost half a year now. Sometimes he woke abruptly in the night, the first few times Felix had patiently listened as Sylvain ran through the dream, and his feelings. But, they were always vague dreams, and he always felt the same way afterward, which he could never properly explain. After that, if he woke abruptly, Felix would reach out blindly for him, soft and uncomplicated with sleep, Felix held him until Sylvain was lulled to sleep again by Felix’s even breathing.

“I thought,” Sylvain began, speaking slowly, almost afraid to say it. “That we might make him a small grave here. He was never properly buried, and maybe – maybe he didn’t deserve to be. But, he was my brother, in the end, we could have been different if our father had been different.” Sylvain paused, “What do you think?”

Felix continued to run his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, “I think these feelings are yours to settle how you see fit. Your relationship with Miklan was complicated, it was unpleasant, but that you cannot dismiss it completely is not a failing on your part. You are allowed to mourn him, if that is what you want to do.”

Sylvain didn’t reply to that right away, he couldn’t. He had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat more than once. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Felix said nothing to that, just reached out with his other hand and touched Sylvain’s shoulder, carefully tracing the faint scar there. Sylvain took his hand, and moved on to easier, lighter topics about his trip.

In the morning they would begin preparations for Miklan’s grave, and though no one would have questioned Sylvain for it anyway, Felix stood next to him, giving off such a strong venomous aura, no one would have dared to.

It was a long hard road they had travelled to arrive here, but it had all been worth it. Given his chance again, despite wanting to have this sooner, Sylvain still might not change anything, because he wanted to ensure he and Felix still ended up here. In a place they had built together, working on something neither of them had imagined would be their calling, but that they found peace and joy in. Sylvain finally had a place he wanted to be, he felt he truly belonged, and there was so much happiness in sharing that. But, even if their new estate were torn down stone by stone, Sylvain would still have a home, in Felix’s dark eyes, his strong hands, and his loving heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. :'))))))))
> 
> As you can see, I have more ART!!!! The amazingly talented [Kaijujuice](https://twitter.com/kaijujuice) (Andie) made this commission for me, please pay close attention to Felix's expression, it makes me so happy!!! I also strongly recommend checking out Andie's twitter, it's full of beautiful art, and of course the awesome Andie herself =D She was an absolute pleasure to work with, and I'm so happy I got the chance to commission her!!! (≧ω≦)
> 
> It's so wild, awesome, and a little sad to be done this. This fic has had me in such a grip for a while, and it was truly one of those muses that wouldn't let me rest or really think about anything else until it was done. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! Everyone commenting and leaving kudos has been such an incredible support, thank you so much!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧♥
> 
> I have a new tumblr that's specifically for writing, which you can find [here](snowfallswrites.tumblr.com), and you can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/snow_falls4)! Take care all, be safe, stay strong, and I hope to see you in the next fic! =D


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